This here's a two parter. *Author disappears forever*

This is it boys, the climax.
~~~
“What do you mean you're sorry!!” Dee was fuming. We were at the food-court on a Sunday, I'd finally worked up the courage to tell her. I just looked at the table, I couldn't meet her eyes just then, “Anon! What on Earth am I meant to do?!” She folded her arms under her bust crossly and kept scolding, “It's not like I have time to find a date now. Thanks a lot!”
“Like I said Dee, I'm sorry,” I looked at her and spread my hands out to apologise. It's not like she was being entirely truthful, there were plenty of guys who'd want to take her.
She just scowled at me and drank her thickshake, “Next you're going to tell me you're taking someone else.”
Oh boy, here it comes. I must have looked incredibly guilty, not like Dee didn't already have a sharp enough mind to work it out. I didn't need to say anything.
“No way!” She was going off now, “Who is it?!”
I heaved a sigh, she was yelling at me like she yelled at Jousuke whenever he did something wrong. I started mumbling, “It's a member of the public.” Best just to give her the basic truth at this point, it only turns out worse if you lie.
She slammed her palms on the table and threw her chair back as she shot up, “Hell no!!” She crossed her arms, “No! No! Absolutely not! The public tickets are SOLD OUT.”
I looked up at her, pleading, “But you're on the organising committee!”
“So you dump me, replace me and THEN you ask me for a favour?!” I'd only seen her this mad a few times before. I mean, I'm a boxer and she's just a little half-Japanese netballer, but I'd really rather have been in the ring than this conversation. She shook with anger, then she grabbed my thickshake, my chips, her half eaten burger, the McDonald's bag and threw them at me one by one. After that she stamped her foot and stormed off with her drink, steaming like a kettle.

She gave me the ticket I needed a couple of weeks later, “You'd better be grateful.” She still hadn't forgiven me, but I was so happy I hugged her anyway and said she was a miracle worker. She told me later that her reasoning behind coming around eventually was that me treating her like shit almost always came with a very good reason, and that she wanted to hear it after the formal. That was a conversation I was simply /not/ looking forward to. But for me, the world didn't exist after the formal, so it was okay.

The formal couldn't have come quickly enough for me. Renting suits, practicing the waltz in the quad, my grandmother crying and saying how grown-up I looked, the limo with the boys, shaking Smiddy's hand as I walked in. The formal was going to be a good night. As I ate dinner, listened to the speeches and gave the applause for the various social awards people were getting there was only one thing missing. That one thing should've been sitting in the seat next to me, but she was nowhere to be seen.

I excused myself from the table eventually. Ironically it happened to be at the same time The Goose was talking about dependability, reliability and any other -ility he could think of that sounded good. Another boring speech of our beloved principle that I was walking out on. It was 8:30pm, and I was still holding her ticket. Maybe she was outside, maybe she'd gotten lost. My stomach was hopping. It had all been a big gamble, I realised that when I originally invited her, but I still really didn't want to lose her again.

I opened the door, wiping my mouth. “Can't you ever stay inside?” Smiddy was looking at me.
I smiled at him and felt a little guilty for giving him so much trouble over the years, “Sorry, Mr. Smith.”
He gave me a half smile and turned his head to face forward with his body, “It's alright, I think he's a boring speaker too.”
I sniggered and put my hands in my pocket. Mr. Smith was standing next to me in his own formal suit with his hands folded on his lap, ramrod straight. In comparison I was slouching, hands in pockets and looking distracted. It was a little bit strange talking to Mr. Smith now, he wasn't as scary when you were the same height as him. The whole 'scary math teacher' and 'Smiddy stare' bit was just to keep the juniors in line, he never used it in senior. Somehow, something about it felt less like a student and teacher standing next to each other, and just two men who knew one another.

I took out my phone to look at the time and sighed, shoving it back in my pocket, anxiety was knotting in my stomach. I had a sinking feeling. “Date not coming?” Smiddy asked. He was a perceptive guy, that Mr. Smith.
“Yeah,” I responded.
“Anyone I know?” Mr. Smith squinted.
I looked at him, it hit me like a train. Of course he'd know her! “Nicole!” I said quickly, “Nicole Fisher, have you seen her?”
His eyes flew open, “Little Nikki Fisher?!” He bellowed a laugh, remembering her, “There was a fire-cracker! You still seeing her?!” He frowned after that, “I thought you were with Deborah Lang.”
“Woah,” I threw up my hands, “How much do teachers know about their students' personal lives anyway?”
“Pfffft!” Mr. Smith chuckled, “What do you think we do in the staff room all day,” it wasn't a question. “We put up with you brats at work all day every day, you think we don't have eyes? One of life's big rewards is watching you lot grow up and get with each other.” He chuckled with his own little joke, “Each grade is like it's own little soap opera.”
“Huh...” I grunted, and shuffled my feet, shifting my weight.
“Tell me the story,” Mr. Smith looked at me, folding his arms. “You're not the kind of guy who two-times.” I smiled at the compliment, and told him what was going on in general terms. After hearing it, he nodded and said, “Well, from the sounds of it The Goose's speech is wrapping up, that means the waltz is coming up. Want some advice?” he asked. I almost missed the part where a teacher called his boss The Goose. I'd remember it later though.
“Sure, sir.”
He looked away from me while he said, “Don't miss the waltz over Nicole Fisher. She'll either get here or she won't. I'll look out for her and show her in when she gets here. Give the dance to Dee if she'll still have you, it's not like Nikki knows the steps anyway. ”
Hearing relationship advice from a guy like Mr. Smith took me aback, but I nodded and thanked him, and just as I was about to go back inside, he turned his head to say, “Oh, and Anon?”
I turned, “Yeah?”
“Make sure you beg.” I laughed, but he was probably right.

It was just after the deputy principle had invited the seniors to treat the teachers and guests to the traditional waltz of the school. Deborah Lang was mad at me again, “I am NOT your fall-back girl.” Dee wasn't wearing much make-up. It was one of the things I noticed about her. She'd gotten a little pimple on her cheekbone which she was hiding with foundation, but that was about it. Her eyeshadow was a dark shade of navy, which complemented her traditional dress. She'd decided to put her hair in a complicated bun as much as possible with it being shoulder length , and the hairdresser had fixed it in place with hair sticks that ended in small wooden spheres. Her kimono was covered in large white flowers, I already knew it was her mother's, and wrapped around the formal kimono was her grandmother's yellow obi. Right now unfortunately she looked pissed, but if she smiled she'd look completely stunning.

I took a long breath, “You're right, you're not.”
Her hands flew onto her hips, and disappeared into her long sleeves, “You have NO RIGHT to ask me to dance with you. Just because your date's not here.”
I nodded, getting chastised, “You're right, I don't. But she wouldn't have known the steps.”
Her hand was flying around in an angry gesture, “You think I care about you and your problems?! I busted my little TUSH to get her here and she doesn't even have the decency to show up!”
I nodded again, directing my gaze downwards, “You're right, I'm very grateful for what you did.”
Hands back on hips, still yelling, “You'd better be grateful! You think I care if you don't have a dance partner now? Well stuff you Mister I'm-too-good-for-Dee! I have half a mind to give you a good slap for how you made me feel.”
I kept nodding. Man, how do married guys put up with this? “You would have every right to slap me Dee.”
Dee pulled her fan out and gestured with it, waving, “Well what do you have to say for yourself!? Don't just keep repeating what I say!! Man up you little ingrate!”
Everyone was almost in position by this stage, they'd all gotten their partners. I breathed in and looked her in the eyes while she hid her mouth with her fan, scowling at me. “Dee. I am a worthless person. I don't deserve it, but I'm begging you. Please, would you do me the honour of this dance?”

I like to think she was hiding a smile under that fan when I said that, but I'll never know. She closed the fan after a couple of seconds and had her lips pursed. She grabbed my wrist and dragged me onto the dance floor with me trailing behind. She probably was smiling at this stage, she wouldn't let me see her face. When we were on the floor, we took our position, and she put my hands in place, one holding hers, and the other around her waist. Her expression was sour... but a lot softer.

The waltz started. The music for the waltz wasn't famous, it just had a strong 3 / 4 beat and an unimaginative melody over it. Easy to dance to for high-school kids who'd just learned how to waltz, in that it served its purpose. I led Dee mechanically at first, she was being uncooperative and messing up the steps because she was still mad at me, but I didn't say anything about it. About halfway through the song, after the first spin I actually saw a hint that she was enjoying herself. It was a twitch in her mouth, I could only see it because I was so close, but it made me smile. The thing about my smile, was that Dee liked it. Whenever I smiled, she'd have to smile as if on instinct. By the end of the song, we were both smiling at eachother.

After the waltz the audience applauded, and the band launched into a West Coast swing number. Dee and I didn't know how to swing, so we just made some stuff up using the waltz steps. Her smile got bigger every time we made up a move, and it wasn't long before she was laughing again. Dancing is sort of like that. If you give yourself to it you just forget what you were thinking about and enjoy it. It's some sort of primal thing about moving your body to a rhythm or a melody that lets you just enjoy a moment, to just be with a person you like and enjoy their company.

I'm sure she felt the same, because I saw more and more of Dee come back as we danced. She'd never say it with words of course. 'I forgive you' would be unthinkable for her to say after what I'd done. I knew though, as I danced with her, I knew that everything between us would smooth over, that she didn't really hate me. She could say it just with the way she danced with me, the same way I could say 'I'm sorry'.

“I'm enjoying my night,” she said quietly. It was a slow song and we were more just rocking backwards and forwards, pretending to do steps. Her cheek was against my chest.
“Yeah, me too...” I petted the back of her neck gently, I didn't want to touch the complicated bun.
We stayed quiet for a little, I felt her look up at me for a second and look back, “I'm... sorry your date didn't come...”
I shrugged, “It's okay,” I said quietly, “It was a long shot anyway.”
“Who was it?” it sounded like she was biting a fingernail, “Who was so important to you?”
I shook my head, “It doesn't matter.”

We walked back to the tables with sore feet when the band was packing up. About half of the student body were still on the dance-floor, the other half were taking photos or horsing about. Dee and I were holding hands on the way back. That's when the lights dimmed for the DJ to introduce himself and start playing some pop. Dee sat down, kicking off her shoes. “My feet are killing me,” Dee said, pained, “Punch?”
“It's probably spiked,” I grinned and chuckled.
“Good, I could use the alcohol.” I laughed at Dee rubbing her ankle and moved off.

I was at the punchbowl, pouring Dee's cup when my world went black. I smiled instinctively when I heard the words, “Guess whoooooo!”
“Nikki, what the fuck!” I said, turning around with Dee's drink in my hand. “You're late!” I scolded her while Nikki threw her head back, drinking Dee's drink.
She grinned, “Had to blow Smiddy to get in.” I hoped she was joking. Now Nikki, there was a stunner. She looked amazing to me without makeup, so when she hid what little imperfections were on her face she looked almost angelic. It might be me remembering this through rose-coloured glasses, but I remember thinking a single, all-encompassing phrase to describe how she looked when I saw her. Celtic fertility goddess. Her hair was curled, and fell in locks and bangs, wild and free. Some of the bangs fell against her shoulder, while the rest swelled like a great wave or a rolling countryside down her back. Her face had it's usual softness, with freckles that covered her nose, and powdered cheeks that gave her pale skin only the slightest hint of a blush. Maybe it was a natural blush, a natural redness of her cheeks that I just hadn't seen before that made her look so... so... ravishing. There was no eyeshadow because those splendid green orbs didn't need an accent. There was no lipstick because her lips already matched her dress. Nikki looked like a woman, a woman wild and free. Tonight she wasn't a painted whore, tonight she was a debutante, looking for a bachelor.

“Mm, good vodka!” She giggled, handing the empty cup back to me, “C'mon, let's dance!” she held my wrist and tugged at me gently, “I wanna go feel up a seventeen-year-old's junk for kicks!” Well... at least her looks were more mature now.
She was tugging me desperately over to the dance-floor, I had to get back to Dee to give her her drink. I was being pulled between them in a way that I really didn't want to be, but I didn't have a choice really. My heart decided for me. In one of the most selfish and reckless things I think I've ever done, I danced with Nikki while Dee waited for me to return.

Knowing what I know now, I have a different opinion as to what was going on on that dance floor. At the time I mostly felt guilty, I was fully aware of dancing with Nikki to thumping, rhythmic music while Dee was waiting for me. Now that I think back on it though, I'm almost certain Nikki knew it as well. She wanted to prove something to me on that dance-floor, I'm not sure exactly what it was, but she had something she needed to tell me, and dancing was the only way she knew how.

The direct comparison between dancing with Dee and Nikki was self-evident. Where Dee was refined, Nikki was wild. Where Dee hid her sexuality underneath the layers of her traditional clothing, and inviting only a select few to help her unwrap them, Nikki chose to display it freely. I can't pinpoint the actual move she used that was particularly erotic or that excited me the most, it was a case of the sum being greater than the parts. It was the way she grabbed her own hair and threw her head with the rhythm to make you imagine being rough with her. It was in the way she shook her hips to say 'hold me before I fall'.

She'd trace the contours of that lewd body with her fingers while she danced and said 'this could be you touching me'. Her message was in the way her head fell back and she exposed her throat, her most sensitive, vulnerable part to say 'I'm yours'. Instead of asking you to unveil her sexuality, Nikki would violently unveil yours, she'd rip your clothing off with her eyes and fuck you with a kiss. That girl knew how to dance. She drank the attention of the men that gave it to her, and thanked them with smiles and winks. But the whole time that she made them want her, the whole time she spent grinding her ass against them and teasing them, her face told me that tonight she was mine.

The real fun started when Nikki had worn herself out, and we were headed back to the seats. I was laughing at something stupid and naughty that Nikki said if I remember, and then completely stopped in my tracks when I looked where I was going. I was in trouble. I knew it the very millisecond I saw Dee in front of me, fists balled at her side and her face hidden. I'm not sure if she knew what to say, she had so many things to be mad about she probably couldn't order them. A broken promise, a boy that didn't come back, dancing with another woman, on the night of the formal that she organised the formal that she bled for. So many little insults she couldn't even count them.

It's funny, but Ron's words struck me at that point, one day you'll love a woman and they'll mean the world to you, and then you'll hurt them. You won't mean to, it's not a point of malice or about whether or not you're a good person. You just will. Like gravity. You'll make a mistake and it'll be so monumental and catastrophic that there'll be nothing you can do to fix it. That's what I'd done to Deborah Lang in that moment. I'd betrayed her by loving a red-haired girl.

Dee didn't say anything. Just stood there, not even looking at me. She was shaking with rage and deafeningly quiet. There wasn't much to say really, the music was thumping but it seemed far away. People were having fun and moving but we were still. It was like a perfect moment that encapsulated my utter betrayal. I'd come into her life, stolen her first kiss with a lie, strangled her the night she was meant to lose her virginity, and danced with a different girl on her formal debut as a woman. There was no coming back, the event horizon was a hundred, thousand, million miles ago. None of us did anything, not even Nikki, we just watched her shake, felt her rage ooze from her as an expression of her utter pain.

It was a hissing sound at first, it grew louder and louder and came from the girl shaking in front of me. Her head lifted slowly and I saw exactly what I expected to see. Hatred. Not anger. I'd never seen it expressed so clearly as when I saw it on a betrayed woman's face. It was a hatred so deep and so pure that it froze me. She didn't want to yell anymore. She no longer felt satisfied by simply being angry. She, in that moment, felt complete and total hate for everything that had happened to her. Her memories were probably flashing with every single time I told her in a roundabout way that I liked red-haired girls and how I only saw her as a friend. She saw the feelings I expressed to the girl standing next to me and she hated me for it. She hated me because I kissed her, she hated me because she'd pressed her bare body next to mine and I rejected her. She hated me because no matter what I did to wrong her she forgave me. Most of all, she hated me because I'd told her to her face that I loved her and she'd believed me. If Krakatoa was a woman... it's name would be Deborah Lang.

“FUCK-HEAD!” She screamed it, the absolute top of her lungs and as hard as she could. After her feelings were captured in that single word she broke and cried. Before I could even reel from what she said she was running away. The worst night of her young life. Nikki just touched my arm quietly and watched. After a small reverie, Nikki reached up on her toes to kiss my cheek and drew my attention, “I'll fix her,” she said quietly. I looked down at her, a lump caught in my throat. She squeezed my arm gently, “I just wanted her to feel a little of my pain before I did, see what kind of woman she was underneath.”

Nikki was gone before I could say anything, she'd gone in the same direction as Dee, and I was left just standing there; holding the proverbial testicles that Dee had wanted to rip right off me.

Now of course I don't know what happened next exactly because I wasn't there. The only two participants in this conversation were Nicole and Deborah. So what follows is fiction. It's based on what I've researched about Nicole Fisher over the years and on what little Dee's told me about it. Part of it's just made up to link events in a way that I think is logical, based on what I know about Nikki and Dee. As far as the truth goes, nobody but them will ever really know, but I'll present here my best guess.

I believe Dee ran to the girl's bathroom to cry. She didn't want anybody to see her, so she'd be in a cubicle. Nicole would follow soon after, entering the swinging door and listening to the sound of Dee's wailing. I can't imagine what either of them were thinking. Nikki's mind was always a mystery, Dee probably just wanted to disappear.

Nicole approaches Dee's stall gingerly, and leans against it to listen to her. I think about her eyes here, how they'd just stare at the door sadly, listening to the woman she destroyed. Eventually she'd knock, gently tap her knuckles against the wood.
“Go away!!”
She'd pause for a bit, listening again and sigh. It was time to talk, now or never. “Dee? Sweety? Come out.”
“Fuck off!” her voice snapped back, “Leave me the fuck...” swallowing hard, “Leave me the fuck alone!!”
I assume Nikki wasn't used to dealing with people as stubborn as herself, so she'd take a deep breath and try again in a few minutes, “I need to talk to you. It's important.”
The cubicle door would slam right next to Nikki's face when Dee kicked it angrily. She was in mid-tantrum and not listening to anyone. The cubicle would rattle every time she smashed her fists or feet against it. “My life is OVER! FUCK YOU!!” She'd scream, “Fuck you! Fuck Anon! Fuck this school! Fuck every single fucking person on this whole FUCKING PLANET!” Once you got Dee to the point where she'd say the f-word it'd just fall out of her mouth like a waterfall, make up for lost time or something.
Nikki had had enough of this girl spitting her dummy out by this stage, but Nicole wouldn't let her other side take over just yet. One more try, in just a few more minutes. A deep breath, and then, “Dee, I know you're angry... but I really have to tell you something.”
“No.” Her response was final and definite.
Time to let Nikki out. The red-haired girl clenched her teeth furiously and balled up her fists, “Listen you yellow SLUT! Come out NOW before I steal your fucking boyfriend and have his BABY!”

“You BITCH!” The cubicle door would fly open and the cat-fight would start. I don't really like to imagine this part. Dee was pretty angry, which is all that really matters between two untrained fighters, so she'd be going for vulnerable spots. Hair pulling, eye gouging, jugular ripping, biting, kicking. Anything just to cause as much pain as she could. Nikki on the other hand has lived her entire life in pain and misery and she was still here, so she wouldn't be afraid of what some angry ex could do to her. Both of them have a mean stubborn streak and they both had a point to prove in the fight. They both wanted to know who would win.

It only really makes sense in my version of events for Nikki to win the catfight by disabling Dee. As far as I know of course these two girls just sat down and had some tea together, but in my personal favourite version both of them are panting on the floor and Dee is stuck in a four point Judo joint lock that Nikki's pressing on her. Nikki, panting would say, “Ready...” pant, “To listen...” pant, “Now?”
Dee'd respond into the floor, “Mmf...” Now of course that's probably not the truth either, but the thing to understand when you tell a story about Nikki is that she had a way with people. I'm not sure if she had it with girls as well as guys, but she definitely had a way. She could get people to listen to her, bring people to her point of view. If she said something outrageous it'd be totally fine because it's just Nikki saying it, that kind of thing.

Either way, Nikki got Dee out of the bathroom and onto the balcony. Dee was very specific that the red haired girl wanted to talk to her on the balcony. It's at this point, that I need to describe the appearance of a woman that I haven't really mentioned in this whole story until now: Nicole Fisher. Nicole looks exactly like Nikki, only she seems a lot smaller. Her hair is just as red, and the curls would cascade down her shoulders in just the same way. Instead of fiery though, I'd describe Nicole's hair as copper. Their eyes were just as green, but where Nikki had an impish giggle attached to everything she said, Nicole would just stare. She'd stare at you with half closed lids, and eyes that were on the brink of watering, like she saw how terrible a person you really were inside and it made her cry just to think about it. Nicole doesn't smile as much as Nikki does, there wasn't much in this world that could make Nicole smile at all, really.

It was Nicole that was standing on the balcony with Dee. I don't think she'd be able to look at Dee, she'd just stare wistfully out across the city, wondering maybe how badly it'd hurt to hit the pavement from this high. That sort of thing made her smile, macabre. Dee would lose her patience with the silence after a few moments and clear her throat. She just wanted to scowl at the red-haired girl some more, try and hurt her with just a look.

Nicole looks over at the noise, and stares sadly at the angry Japanese girl in her pretty kimono. She looks down at the other girl's feet, but just feels empty inside, “Thank you for coming out.”
“I didn't really have a choice.” Dee says bitterly.
“I know,” Nicole responds, looking back towards the city. “I've been trying to think. I've been trying to think really hard about what to tell you... but I just can't put it right,” she shakes her head gently.
Dee doesn't have patience, “I'm going home.”
“No.” Nicole says it quietly, but looks at Dee in a way that freezes her. It was chilling how Nicole could look at you. “I need to tell you a single story, and ask you a single question before you can go.”
“Or else what?”
“I kill Anon.” Yep, my life was on the line. The chilling part is, Nicole said this with dead seriousness, not even so much as a flinch, a flicker of her eyes or a consideration. Nicole was fully ready and prepared to kill me to get her way, to manipulate Dee into listening.
Dee folds her arms, “What do you mean you'll kill him?”
Nicole closes her eyes, and looks back out over the city, “No questions... I have to be able to tell the story my way. I really have to concentrate, so if you interrupt me I'll have to start over...” I don't know what was going through Dee's mind at this stage. Curiosity? Her pride was probably still smarting from what the woman in front of her had done in the last half hour, but maybe she did have a story to tell. I like to think it was some ethereal nature that Nicole had that made Dee listen to her, like the ancient mariner and his wedding guest.

Ok this is the exact time anyone else has ever disappeared.

>>20209
Yeah, vanish before finishing this awesome story and I will hunt you down and make you finish this misery style!

Just jokes. ;)
~~~
“My name is Nicole Fisher, and I am a whore. From my count, my body has serviced the desires of one hundred and sixteen distinct men, and I have loved none of them.” She looks at Dee, her emerald eyes sparkling with something deeper than tears, “On December eighth, 1994, I lost my virginity to my father. I was eight years old. It's one of my earliest memories, my father raping me. I really don't remember much before that, even if I try really hard...

… The sexual abuse was slow at first. It would just sort of happen now and then. Once for my ninth birthday, a few months after that, December eighth again. He called it our secret anniversary, and every time December eight would come around he would introduce my body to a new form of depravity. By the time I was ten I was being routinely abused by my father every week. Like watching cartoons on Saturday. A tradition...

…I thought it was something normal, something every little girl went through with their daddy. He'd come home, give me a doll, brush my teeth before bed, rape me, and send me off to sleep in my pyjamas. He was just so normal and casual about it I thought I was being a bad daughter for not liking it...

… He called me beautiful... my father. He called me his precious doll while he put things in me. I felt like I was a toy to him, just a broken toy who didn't love her father enough to let him abuse her. He held me and told me sweet things, and at the same time he touched me places in ways that I still don't like to think about. My father was the most vile creature on earth, and on my eleventh birthday, my present... was to star in my own porno... Daddy's Angel...

… By this time, my vagina, my small child's vagina that was only designed for urination had become accustomed to servicing him. My eleventh birthday was the day that my father would finally thrust his entire penis inside of me, and rob me of the feeling of sexual pleasure forever. I had become numb down there, like it was just a pocket where he could thrust and dump part of himself and leave me crying. I was sad about losing part of my body, so sad that I cried myself to sleep, but I was also happy that I had finally become a good little girl like all the rest...

… When the other girls talked about boys at school, I told them about my graduation as Daddy's Angel. The other girls hated me immediately, 'How could you do that to your own father?' they asked me. I was shocked. I did something wrong? I'd done everything I was told didn't I? Everything I... everything I was forced to do I'd done with a smile, even when it hurt, even when I didn't want to I did it any way. I was a good girl wasn't I?...

… My mother died just before my twelfth birthday. She was the closest thing I had to a friend. I thought she was the greatest woman I knew, but the reality was probably closer to her being a beaten housewife. My father was truly a monster, and made her console me once after he was finished with me. She told me it would be okay, and told me secret things to say to myself to make all the pain of the world disappear. They were our spells, they'd keep us safe, they'd keep the bad people away...

… My father fell into alcohol further by the time I was twelve. The daily routine, was for me to come home from school, avoid his raging, get into trouble over something trivial like the dishes not being washed, be chained naked under the house, and be urinated on as a toilet. That was the way he punished me for being bad... Whenever he wasn't listening, I'd chant my mother's little spells to myself, and hope with all my heart that my father would die...”

I can't imagine how Dee felt while listening to this story, I honestly couldn't read all this in her case-file without feeling for little Nicole. Hearing it live would be fairly traumatic.

“... It was a cold night. I was sore, blindfolded, naked and chained to a steel drum. I'd defecated in shame and I was sitting in it. I felt dirty and so utterly, utterly alone. I was at the end. I couldn't take it anymore. I recited my mother's spell with one last, great effort, putting all my heart into it and feeling my tears sting my cheeks. And I swear... I swear to whatever fucked up God made this world... I felt somebody wipe it away. My tears...

… I looked up and there she was. My rescuer. I could see her even though I was blindfolded. The sister I'd summoned with my mother's spell and my last few tears. 'My name's Nikki!' she said, 'What are you doing down there?' I cried. I cried with such joy and so loudly because finally... finally I wasn't alone. It was so loud that my father woke up from passing out and unchained me...

… Nikki was older than me by four minutes. My twin. We were so close that nobody could tell us apart, we could even share the same skin. She was so much different from me though, so much stronger. She didn't let anyone tell her what to do and wouldn't let anyone hurt us. She was also a simple girl, she liked running, fast cars and guns. Things that could take us away... She told me with a whispered smile my secret, that I really was an angel, and that I could perform miracles. I had three inside me, and I'd used the first to make her. So when it came time for me to spend time with my father? I hid her. I had to, she was my precious miracle that I'd made. One of us had to get raped, and if Nikki would protect me everywhere else, I would protect Nikki from our father...

…By the time highschool came around, I'd regressed as a person until I almost wasn't there anymore. I was incredibly shy, but Nikki said she'd hold my hand all the way. She promised to make me popular, and to find a way out. She had a plan, just find a scarier man than my father and get them to kill eachother. It was genius...

… At only thirteen, Nikki was seducing seniors with her body. She had a way. You already know she had a way. It was her talent: seduction, control. Nikki lost her virginity to a pair of seventeen year old boys who were high on pot. She worked her way slowly around the stoner circle, finding older brothers, finding uncles, fathers. Any man. We had to test them. We had to test every man we met because we knew that one of them had to be strong enough to make us as scared as daddy did...

...None of them did though. The boys and girls at school didn't understand me and Nikki. They made fun of us constantly, and I never got to have any friends. I asked her why they were calling us a slut, and she smiled and said 'it means Super Luscious and Unusually Talented.' She was my only hope, my only rock. I had to believe in her plan because my father was going to kill me one day, and I had to believe that if I just prayed hard enough I could make another miracle...

… At the start of my fifteenth year I'd all but given up. It was hopeless. I'd been a big highschooler and fucked everything from jocks to teachers. Nobody could make me feel as scared as my father did. He was invincible. I cried in despair, but Nikki had another plan. One last great strategy to escape my father. A suicide pact. 'Let's face it, we aren't going anywhere anyway.' She shrugged at me, 'At best we can do hair maybe.' Then she held me, so tenderly and said, 'Let's go back to mummy and try again. I'm sure if we explain ourselves properly, God won't blame us. Let's just die and be born again, in different bodies this time' We swore, finish junior, go out with a bang, have as much fun as we could and die. Die smiling. Die free...

… And that's when we met Anon. I didn't think much of him at first. Just an awkward, wiry boy with no muscles and no attitude. Nikki threw an invitation at him, and we both laughed when he got all awkward and embarrassed. We decided to tease him for kicks. He was meant to have this big, powerful brain but he was totally clueless. We liked tormenting him softly. I don't think he ever got the joke though, because he just kept smiling at me...

… It was that smile. He was tireless in believing in me. Kept helping me with math, kept scribbling notes for me in business. He taught me better than the teachers ever did, and he just seemed to listen to me without any reserve or impatience. Anon had time for me, made time for me. And because he'd rejected Nikki's invitation, for the first time I thought 'maybe he doesn't just want to fuck'...

… Of course, Nikki told me to stop being stupid. 'He's a boy!' she'd say. Then she'd torment me by making him attracted to her. I cried to myself and I didn't want to believe it, but I saw it with my own two eyes. Anon liked Nikki, he'd never like me the way he liked her...

… But despite myself I liked hanging around Anon. Even if it was my sister he liked to talk to, I liked just to listen to him. It was like I was sitting quietly in a third chair, watching them laugh and have fun. Nikki would smile at me and even she would say things like 'He's not that bad to be around, even if he is a man'. I'd fantasize quietly about Nicole and Anon, and I secretly carved our names under my dining room table. We were hanging out at a burger joint when he first said he liked me. I was so happy I was beside myself, even though I realised I only had a few months left I got to experience a boy I liked liking me back, I was so grateful but it was so bittersweet...

...After he said he liked me he said he was afraid of Nikki because he was just a virgin. I thought that was cute, but Nikki hated him again immediately. I think maybe for the first time in her life she was jealous, Anon liked a different girl, her own sister even! She wanted to prove more than anything that Anon was like everyone else and just wanted my body... So we tested him...

… I integrated myself into his life, told him he couldn't have me, and waited to see what he'd do. And do you know what he did? He played the piano! I'd never heard a pianist play before, and he was playing for me, every time I was over for hours on end with hardly a complaint. Take that Nikki, I said to her, I knew I was right. 'Just wait' she replied, 'Just wait till you kiss him. There's a monster inside Anon and I'll prove it.'...

… When I gave Anon his first kiss, I realised that it was also my first kiss, as Nicole. I was shocked but then he kissed me again, and it felt good. Kissing felt good for the first time and I realised it was all because it was with a boy I actually liked. A boy who wouldn't hurt me. I made up some bullshit and made him stop, so he just turned around and kept playing his piano...

… You have to realise, I'd barely spoken two words to Anon by this stage. I always just listened to Nikki trying to seduce him, and laughed at her when she failed or he got too embarrassed to continue. But then Nikki did something really cruel to me, the next test. She made me make out with him. He was bad at it and he fucked it up, but he also did something that no man ever did for me. When I said 'ow' he just stopped, let go. He wouldn't hurt me even when he was on top of me and I was helpless under him. But then he fucked up again...

… He said he loved me. I freaked. I couldn't love anyone! I was going to die in a few months. What if I broke his heart? What if I fucked it all up. What was I meant to say back? I couldn't be his wife. That boy's piano, his soul, it was so beautiful and pure, and I was just daddy's toilet girl... I didn't speak to him, I just couldn't face him for weeks after that...

… Graduation, the big night. Nikki was going to prove to me once and for all that Anon was a bad person who just wanted to have sex with me. We ditched with him and found a deserted hill on top of a carpark, beneath a single lamp post. We'd found a note in our bag signed from him with 'Fuck off Slut' all over it, but it wasn't in Anon's handwriting. Do you know what he actually wrote? 'Come listen to the piano again'. I cried so hard and so long that I shooed Nikki away for the first time in my life. I decided that Nikki wasn't allowed to seduce Anon anymore. It had to be me. I had to be the one to be with Anon...

...But that was going to be my last night on Earth. Could I really let it end like that? Could I just go back to heaven and hug mummy and tell her all about Anon and his piano, and have her scold me for not being honest with him? Suddenly I got so mad and so frustrated that I screamed for hours. Why couldn't I just do what Anon wanted and listen to the piano again. Why couldn't I take this pain away. Why couldn't I just have a father that didn't urinate in my face anymore...

… and so I wished. It was the second time in my life that I made a wish so hard and with so much passion that I could explode. I wished it on top of the hill, underneath the single lamp post after Anon was gone. I wished it under the night sky, clenched every muscle in my body and just wished with all my heart. Let me hear Anon's piano again. I said it so purely and with such conviction I just knew that it had to come true. I felt a hand on my shoulder and flinched. When I whipped around nobody was there, but somehow I felt like my wish would be granted...

...It was my second miracle. I knew that as soon as I looked down at my father's lifeless body. There was blood everywhere, and I felt horrified by my own power. Even though he was such a terrible person, to see his completely lifeless body underneath my own naked body covered in blood was truly horrifying. I cried for hours and just didn't eat, didn't sleep. I didn't even put clothes on, I was just naked and shivering in the corner...

… The police found me after my father failed to turn up to work for a week. I was rescued by social workers and put into care. It was a secret home for abused and battered women. Nikki hated it there, but I thought it was like a coven of kind witches. They all had their own spells, their own recipes. They had their own ways and magic tricks that they used to help them when they were being beaten. They had miracles in them just like I did. We'd sit around the table and laugh together, and trade our stories of the way we discovered that we were magical...

… I even got to see Anon again. 'What happened to you?' he asked me. He'd never forgotten me. He was mad at me but it felt different from any other time anyone had ever been angry with me. He was angry because he cared about me. He was angry because he'd just wanted to talk to me. I decided quietly that I didn't mind this kind of scolding. It was sweet, like an expression of a feeling that I didn't quite understand...

… Anon gave me his phone so he could contact me again. Then my dream came true. My second wish was granted and I could hear Anon's fingers play music again. The coven was angry with me however, they strictly wouldn't allow me to use Anon's phone. Technology interrupted their magic. Nikki told me quietly that she'd keep the phone safe, because she knew how much it meant to me to be able to contact Anon again...

… Nikki saw how much I liked Anon. She saw what he meant to me and how much I wanted to be with him. She was still jealous of him, but she accepted that eventually that's what sisters do, they find men to love and drift apart. She said I was free to love Anon on one condition. He had to pass the ultimate test. Nikki wanted to know if Anon was like my father in any way, shape or form. She wanted to see the depths of his soul, and to reach into his heart and bring out his hate...

...She seduced him in front of me, while I sat by the piano and watched. She moved her body and weaved her magic. She spoke honeyed words into his ear and made him smile. I'd seen that look he was giving her so many times on so many men I'd gotten used to it. I wanted him to look at me like that too, but not just then. Anon truly thought Nikki meant to take his virginity, she dangled her body in front of him cruelly like a prize and laughed as he begged for it...

…Then she ripped it away. She ripped it away so that he'd hate her. Nikki had done as best as she could, and finally she could see the darkness inside Anon's soul. She was making Anon kill her. Choke her. With her point proven and her victory complete, she looked over to me, and said 'Come look in his eyes now, and tell me this man isn't our father...' and so I re-entered her skin, and looked up at Anon's face while he choked me...

… So I looked. I looked at his eyes and they were on fire. But behind that fire there was only sadness. I could see people in ways that Nikki couldn't, I could read eyes and feel the emotions that they betrayed. It was one of the special powers I'd learned from the witches. Anon didn't hate me the same way my father did. Anon didn't think of me as nothing the same way as the men Nikki seduced. Anon was just a lonely little boy who thought nobody loved him. 'Why did you hurt me when I love you' his eyes demanded. I stroked his cheek. I stroked it softly to just try and say 'I'm sorry, Anon. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll be with you' And he let go. Right before my eyes, Anon's darkness left him, like a black smoke that simply drifted away from his soul...

… Nikki and I both held him then. We both held him while he cried and thought he was a horrible person. That was the moment Nikki smiled at me and told me it was okay. She'd never seen anyone quite like him before, a boy so pure that he cried whenever he caused anybody pain. She said it was okay for me to love him now. That I could give my body to him whenever I wanted, that she trusted him...

… Unfortunately life doesn't always turn out the way you want. I didn't see Anon for a couple of weeks after that, and during that time an old darkness invaded my coven. One of the new witches had brought a monster back with her by mistake. A monster with no hair, a thousand teeth and a voice that cracked like thunder. He seduced me with sweet words and promises, abducted me, and finally shipped me off in a van like packaged meat...

… I found myself naked again. Tied against a bed with my legs forced open. At sixteen-years-old I was to be trained to be used as a whore. The bald monster and his friends traded money so that they could take turns in using me. The reward I got was a needle poked into my skin to make the pain wash away. They said I was a Crystal, renamed me. A whore isn't a person, you see. That's what you have to realise. The whore was my body; my face, the eyes I used to entice people, the smile I could use to encourage them. The whore was the holes they could use to service themselves and ejaculate in. My body was now the Crystal...

… The problem was I was still in my body. I could still watch and see the bald man and his friends use me and hit me and hurt me. I didn't know what to do. I was trapped again, used by men who were like clones of my father. But Nikki wouldn't allow it. Every time someone came in to rape me, Nikki jumped into my skin and pushed me out. 'What a good whore' they complemented me, 'She takes dick so eagerly'. But none of them knew it wasn't me. None of them knew what Nikki was doing for me...

… Nikki took every single man for me, and told me that my body was only for Anon now. Nikki could have sex with hundreds of men for me, just to protect that precious experience that I wanted with Anon. I cried all night because of what she was doing. But I swore to do the only thing I could. I kept a record of Nikki's sacrifices and etched them deep into my heart. I counted every single man Nikki fucked to protect my dream...

… Two weeks later Anon contacted me, saying he wanted to see me. This was it. I was so scared when I got his text I didn't know what to do. Nikki wrapped her arms around me while I held the phone and calmed me down. She pressed the buttons for me, and we both told him that we were ready. I wanted to finally give him the gift I wanted to. I wanted to finally show him how beautiful a boy he was. Then I could do it. Then I could disappear into a needle and be Crystal for the rest of my life because I'd achieved this one goal...

...But then Anon saw me as the Crystal. I was with the bald monster, but he was away hunting food for me. He had to keep me fed because a dead Crystal isn't worth as much money. I begged him to leave. I begged him but he just didn't understand. Then the bald one came back, and immediately threw his rage at poor Anon. I did anything, said anything I could to distract the bald man. I threw myself in his way so that Anon could run away...

… Nikki came to me that night and asked me what was wrong while I sobbed into my pillow. I told her 'I can't stand Anon looking at the Crystal!” My tears stained my cheeks and I swore over and over again, 'He can never know! He can never know!' I wanted, I needed Anon's first time to be with a beautiful and healthy sixteen-year-old girl. I couldn't stand the idea of him losing his one precious virginity to an object like me... Nikki said she'd fix it for me, she'd trick Anon and make him forget the Crystal so that he'd never know that was me...

… I thought I'd said the spell correctly, to cast my third miracle and make sure Anon never knew. But the day Anon and I met to take his virginity away would turn out to be the third worst day of my life. The first being December eighth, the second being my birthday. Because on that day in May, I met Anon's father...

… We'd just come out of the arcade. Anon forced me to go on a date with him. I was so happy I was beside myself the whole time. It was a feeling I'd forgotten in the last two weeks, being a person. I was being treated like I was important, like I was allowed to have fun. Nikki cried while she watched us, she was so happy. As we walked into the carpark I was so nervous I could've collapsed, so I did the only thing I knew how to do. I hid it by kissing him...

… But then the horror started. The bald man came back and bit Anon with his fists. He called me a Crystal in front of Anon over and over, but I thought it might be okay, because Anon was knocked out. Little did I know that Anon's father had watched us the entire time. He stormed over like a giant, and he thundered like a God. He almost killed the bald man with a punch, he broke the man's bones like twigs, and ripped his guts like paper...

… For the first time in two weeks I was free of the bald man, but I'd landed in a situation worse than I could ever imagine. I couldn't find Nikki. No matter how much I looked or what I did, Nikki was nowhere. I don't think she was hiding, I'm sure that Anon's father did something to her. When Anon woke up, I had to do the worst, most embarrassing thing I'd done since sitting in my own waste. I had to admit to Anon I was a whore, in my own words, with my own mouth...

… He knew. He knew I wasn't joking and that I was just a toy. In fact, his father proved it by commanding me to service him in front of Anon. I couldn't resist. It was like facing a vengeful God. I cried on the inside while I stroked him, I wished I was dead when I felt Anon's precious eyes on me. And then he saved me. He saved me just before I completely died on the inside again. He demanded me from his father, trading me for a piano song...

… Placated, the father left. I'd been traded for a song. To Anon I was worth as much, or more than music. I couldn't process it. I couldn't cry. I couldn't feel anything anymore. Now I belong to Anon was the only thought that ever went through my mind. But instead of being his Crystal, his sister called the nice people to come help me again...

… The nice people all wore white. They healed my body, stitched up the wounds on my skin, and freed me from needles. There were sage old men with scruffly little beards, there were beautiful young women with pearly white smiles, there was even a little dwarf with a gruff but friendly attitude. I understood eventually that the place I was in was a place for people like me, to talk and heal... and eventually I realised... I was insane...

… They told me that spells and miracles, witches and monsters, Crystals and gods, phantom sisters that nobody could see, these things didn't really exist. They were my way of dealing with something that was going on. But I couldn't remember it properly. My mind kept constructing these fantasies to suit the way I wanted to think about it. So they gave me pills and potions that helped me sleep, stopped my screaming... It's ironic when I think about it. The ones trying to convince me my fantasies weren't real were like wizards handing out potions to me...

… One of the girls I was living with snuck into their office and showed me one of the wizard's scrolls. It was about me, 'incurable', I laughed because I was never sick! For the first time I was really enjoying life again. I was in a safe place where I could be Nicole and Nikki at the same time and whenever I wanted. The other people with me weren't sick either, everyone out here had just decided they were and locked them away...

… They took us on field trips now and then. I got to go to a themepark and eat candy like a little girl. I got to go on long drives and watch the scenery whiz by. I got to see forests and go camping. And then... earlier this year... I got to go to the beach...

… They took us to a small beach on the Gold Coast. They took us to an unpopular one in winter, so that we wouldn't disturb anyone with our insanity. So you can imagine my surprise, my complete and utter surprise when I saw a car I recognised. I dropped my bag. I dropped everything and one of the wizards' ogres had to ask me if I was okay. Anon's car, Anon was close. Nikki came back to me immediately and convinced the ogre everything was fine...

… I escaped from them. I escaped the sanctuary that the wizards made for me because I needed to find Anon. Nikki was brilliant, her plans always seemed to work out in the end, and we found the beach Anon was laying on as if by magic. He was alone, lying on the sand and just watching the waves. What should I do? What do I say? What can you say to a man you haven't seen for two years when you know you're insane?...

… Nikki calmed me down, 'Leave everything to me,' she said, 'You might be insane, but I'm perfectly healthy.' I laughed and cried, but then Nikki dried my tears and worked her magic again, right in front of me. We were talking to Anon and before I knew it we were kissing again. I could feel his body pressed against mine and it felt so warm and so wonderful. I knew he'd lost his virginity by this stage, but I just wanted this moment to meet with him again, and ask him how he lost it...

… So you can imagine my surprise when he told me he'd been waiting for me! Somehow he knew I'd come back. When I looked at him, lying there on the beach, I realised. That little boy that I knew back then, Anon, to me he wasn't an awkward, wiry little boy. To me, Anon was an angel. Suddenly it all made sense, Anon was an angel, that's how he could be so bright all the time. That's where his music came from, that's how he seemed to know everything in school. He even saved me from the evil God by trading me for a song. Angels really do exist, and one had been looking after me the whole time...

… I'm so selfish. When I felt his warmth I just wanted to bask in it forever. I was so happy I cried in his arms. I was such an impure and dirty person and somehow I'd made an even an angel want me. I wasn't surprised when he told me about you. A woman who loved him. I wasn't surprised at all to find out that you were brilliant, talented and more beautiful than I could ever be. I was only surprised that he was still waiting for me, before he could give his heart to anybody else...

… You ARE perfect for him, Deborah Lang. And he loves you. Of those two facts I have absolutely and positively no doubt. I'm jealous beyond words, but I accept it. I accept that you are the woman who should be his first time. A beautiful virgin girl for a beautiful virgin boy. It's so perfect it makes me sick...

… But Anon told me he wanted me to be a woman for just a little longer before I could disappear. So I did everything in my power to make it here tonight. I lived, these last few months, homeless and begging. I begged and went hungry for days to afford this dress and this haircut. I sucked cocks for change just to put on this cheap pharmacy makeup. I starved and worked so hard to stay alive just for this one night, to make Anon's first time perfect. To make sure it was with a beautiful girl who deserved him... of course, I didn't want Anon to get some disease off me, so I made sure I was completely ready to have sex with him before I came. I wouldn't be here if there was any chance some of my darkness could rub off on him...

… You see... I'm going to disappear, Deborah Lang. I'm going to disappear tonight whether or not Anon makes love to me, because I'm sick of this life. I'm tired of being a whore. I'm tired of men who don't love me. I'm tired of the gray life at the hospital that's neither happy nor sad. I want to finally forget the horrible things that happened to me as a child. I want to meet my mother again and tell her about the angel I met. I want to be reborn with Nikki as a real sister in a different body to me. I want to die so badly, and the only thing keeping me alive right now is the idea that I might make Anon smile just one more time...

… And this brings me to why I'm here, on this balcony with you. Earlier tonight, I gave you a little taste of the experiences I've had to endure, living with Nikki. Nikki has seduced Anon over and over again in front of me, and it hurt each and every time she did it. I wanted her to do it in front of you, so I could see your eyes when you were in pain. So I could know you. You're a good person, Deborah Lang. Your heart is pure like silver, and your body is perfect like a doll's. I realised, when Nikki hurt you, that you were the one destined to have Anon, not me...

… But I'm still a selfish person. I know, as well as you do, that if I went back inside that Anon would choose me over you. I'm not like Nikki though. While she revels in a jilted lover's pain, I just can't stand seeing a woman Anon loves cry. I need... I need your permission before I can let Anon take me. I also needed you to know the woman that I am, and my story before you said no. Because if you do say no, Deborah Lang, you'll watch me as I fling myself off this balcony and into the waiting arms of death...

… Which brings me to my question. Will you grant a selfish and vile woman like myself... her last request?”

Well what do you say to that? I sure as hell don't know. I think Dee just went quiet for a while, watching Nicole at the edge of the balcony. Right now, Dee had the power to kill the red-haired girl with just a word, but she'd have to watch. In some ways, I guess this was Dee's chicken shed. This was the point where Dee realised that she had a cleaver in her hand, and that the only law that existed in that moment was the one she made up. Unlike me though, who saw the chicken as a frightened and unwilling participant, Dee's chicken was daring her. 'Go ahead. Say no. Watch me die in front of you.'

I don't think Dee tried to argue or talk Nicole down. Any word she'd speak other than 'yes' would mean that Nicole would end her life in an instant. I think Dee just thought about it, weighed the value of sex against life. If she says yes, she'll have time to call the police, let them take her away. If she says yes then maybe a sick woman can get the protection she needs. But I'd also be at risk. This insane stranger had already threatened to kill me once, maybe it'd be better to say no and just put Nicole out of her misery.

In the end, I don't know why Dee said it. She told me once that it was hard to hate someone so utterly pathetic. She couldn't hate Nicole because she'd been so hated and traumatised that any hate Dee added on would just bounce right off and not even affect her. Dee probably thought about her own problems, and her own issues, and wondered what she'd do in Nicole's shoes. Maybe she just couldn't stand the thought of watching someone die in front of her.

“Let's fix your makeup then,” she said quietly, “... you look like a whore.”

Holy fuck bro.

>>20220
Damn dude, I think I got something in my eye....

Jeez, man. This is incredible. You've got serious talent. If I could print and bind this I'd put it on my bookshelf. Can't wait for the finale. Thanks for posting this here.

>>20220
The feels are too intense...

Is it over?

>>20243

Author here: YOU THINK I'D COME THIS FAR AND NOT WRITE THE GODDAMNED SEX?!?!

Another great story to add to the list of ones posted on this board.

So many twists and turns it is great.

>>20248
I don't know man, I've been teased by others before...

Hey guys, original author here.

Before I post the finale, I wanted to rap a little bit about the issues regarding ownership and distribution. I know it's not fun and if you don't intend to save or distribute this work then you can skip this post entirely.

Basically? I don't know what I want to do with this manuscript. I started it two weeks ago on a whim, and as of about two minutes ago I just wrote the ending of what ended up being my first full-length novel. I've decided specifically NOT to release this work under creative commons. My reason for doing this is because I don't like the idea of people modifying a first draft when I'll be editing it myself, and I don't know how it affects the saleability of the work in case I do completely finalise it and send this off to a traditional publisher. Not releasing this under CC means that it's illegal to save or distribute the work in any way.

On the other side of the coin, I can't stop you. I'm physically unable, from my keyboard, to stop you from selecting text and saving it on your machine. I'm also unable to stop you from printing it, or emailing it to your friends. In fact, as the creator of this work, that's EXACTLY what I want you to do. The internet is a beautiful thing, my work exists because of it, and I want to give back to the internet by releasing this free for everyone. And the final work? After I've sat down and had a good think about this manuscript? I probably will release it under CC and go for gold, because it's my personal fantasy to find a website I've never visited and read my own story and find out people liked it.

The manuscript isn't in a form that I'd like it though, it's definitely not complete and there's still a lot of work to be done. I will release a downloadable, properly formatted pdf in either a dropbox or a mediafire link and it will contain the first draft. It'll probably be this weekend that I'll do that.

If you decide to distribute my text, then I have a single, and I think reasonable request:

If it's on a futaba-chan style message board like this one:
-Please select and paste the content of each individual post I've written. Label the subjects of your post as I have, except give the posts a proper numbering style (so 6.5 becomes 7 etc).
-Cut and paste THIS POST IN ITS ENTIRETY in between the climax (Nicole's story) and the sex.
-If time allows, please also do me a favour by posting chapters with two day intervals, as if it was being written in real time.

If it's NOT on a futaba-chan style message board; so if we're talking about releasing this on a blog or on literotica or some other story-swap site, then please do the following:
-Label chapters 1-4 as Act I: Nikki, 5-7 (relabelling 6.5 as necessary) as Act II: Dee and the rest of the chapters as Act III: The Formal.
-Do not copy this post at all.
-Put the following foreword before chapter one:

Foreword:
What you are about to read is a series of posts that originated in early November, 2013 on an anonymous, chan-style message board. This is the same style of message board that internet hacktivist group Anonymous calls home. A lot of regular people use these boards however, and under the guise of anonymity share their stories, some possibly true.

This particular story was posted under a thread titled “ITT: How you lost your virginity” and it was apparently written over a period of two weeks, while the author passionately and with many tears shared his story. It's important when reading it to understand the style used and the audience the author intended it for. When you write a story on a chan-style board, you write in first person, your main character is always “Anonymous”, and your style of narration should always be conversational and choppy. Names, dates and locations are presumably altered to protect this anonymity.

'Anon' also directs his story at people who are familiar with the memes of 2013, and hides jokes in the text in order to entertain people that are part of the board's culture. The traditional start of an anonymous story is “Be me,” which is intentionally vague, and the audience is given an information drip whenever things become relevant.

The story can be described as dark, brutal and honest. So if you can put up with the unusual, non-traditional style of narration, we hope you can enjoy the tale of sex, love and depravity that is Nikki.

I was waiting at my seat near the dancefloor. People were going home or off to the after-party. The music had long stopped and students had formed small conversation clusters where everyone was laughing and throwing their heads back. I span the empty punch glass on the table and just stared at it. Dee's fury replayed in my head over and over again, and I felt like shit. 'I'll fix it,' Nikki had said, what did that mean?

The two approached me by the side, and I stood up immediately when I saw them. They were as beautiful as eachother, that much was plain to see when they were side by side. They each had their own way, their own individual charm that permeated the air around them. Dee's mysterious eyes that flicked from side to side when she looked at you while thinking, Nikki's impish giggle that made her eyes sparkle with a hidden light. Different, but equally charming.

I remember that Dee couldn't look me straight in the face like Nikki could at that point. Her face was downcast and her expression was complicated. Nikki had a look on her face I'd barely ever seen before, not lustful or lewd or even playful, she just... looked comely. I stayed quiet, because I sensed that's what they wanted me to do, and just waited until they were an arm's length before me.

Dee reached up with a trembling hand, and gently started to dust my lapel, “Dee, I-”
“Shut up,” her voice was trembling, and she moved to dusting my shoulder. She still didn't raise her eyes to me, “... you're still a fuck-head.”
I didn't really know what to do, I didn't know what was going on, was she crying? Was she mad? I just stood there, watching the woman I'd destroyed.
Dee looked up at me, and our eyes met for just a second before she had to look away. She brought both her hands up to my tie, loosened it and straightened it, just fiddling. While she did, she looked over at Nicole, who just stared back with those infinite eyes. She drew a deep breath and looked back, resolved to say her piece, “When I was in primary school,” she started, “I liked a boy.”

“He wasn't anything special... just a popular kid in class.” She shrugged gently and took a glance back at Nicole, and moved her eyes to the floor sheepishly. “There was another girl who liked him too. One with blond hair and blue eyes. The boy liked me more than her. I know he did.” She dropped her hands from my tie and went back to brushing me off, “So she spread a rumour,” she looked up into my eyes deeply, “She told the boy, that being Asian was a disease I had. That if he touched me, or hung out with me at lunch too much, he'd catch the Asian off me.”

Her jaw moved as she grinded her teeth, I guess it was a combination of anger and sadness. “It was a stupid lie told to a stupid boy, but it worked.” She went back to fiddling with my clothing, I still couldn't understand why she was doing that, maybe to distract herself from what she had to say. “I realised as I watched them that I'd lost my first boyfriend purely because I was Asian.” she thought for a bit, “Or more, because people didn't understand Asians. So I swore two things, as a ten year old girl. I wrote them down and I recited them ten times every day. One? I would be proud of my heritage, no matter what. I would embrace it and prove to everyone that it was what made me special.” She considered her words a little, and added, “I guess, with you, I figured if I lost my first boyfriend by being Asian, I could win my second one with that same simple fact.” She paused a moment to take a breath, “The second thing I promised, was that I would never let some home-wrecking bitch just waltz in and steal love from me without a fight.” She stifled a bitter laugh, “I guess I don't have much luck.”

She stopped fiddling and took a step back, her eyes still downcast. “I really wanted you to look at me and think I was special.” She looked over at Nicole slowly, who smiled to encourage her, “I really fought for you but...” she looked up at me slowly, “It was hopeless. Your heart belonged to her even before that Saturday in May, didn't it...” She fiddled with her fingers nervously, “I was the home-wrecking bitch, wasn't I...”

I didn't answer, I would have said 'no' of course, but it didn't feel right to tell her. “A lot of things about you make sense now. Why you won't talk about that Saturday, why you box, what you were trying to tell me at the carpark... my birthday. I even understand why you only like vanilla porno, why you just want to see pretty women that like to smile.” She reached up to rest a palm on my shoulder, looked directly into Nicole's eyes, clenched her teeth and drew me into a kiss in front of her. When she was done, she looked up at me and said, “You're a good guy, you just have fucked up taste in women...” she paused a bit while her hand dropped from my shoulder, “...and I guess that includes me.”

She moved to turn away, and turned her head to speak over her shoulder. “I've decided I don't blame you anymore for anything that's happened, Anon, but I can't forgive you yet.” She smiled softly, “You ruined my romantic high-school life after all.” She looked down, and then over to Nicole, before she smiled again, “Some things are more important that a silly schoolgirl's dreams though.” She thought a while before she moved off, and thoughtfully said, “Let's meet up again when we're both in uni and a bit older. At a cafe or by the river. You can tell me all about the red-haired girl there, and how this story ends.” She managed to smile at me one last time, “Have fun... Anon. And hide the sharps.”

Believe me, considering I didn't know what Nikki and Dee had talked about? That was the most mysterious fucking conversation I had /ever/ had with Deborah Lang. And 'hide the sharps'? THAT'S the only warning I get that I'm about to sleep with an escaped mental patient who murdered her own father in cold blood? I guess Dee was still mad at me. Before her back had even disappeared out the door though, Nicole was in front of me, smiling softly. “Hey stud,” she whispered, “Told you I'd fix her.” Something felt different about her voice... huskier, sweeter. of course I didn't know about Nicole and Nikki explicitly at this stage, all I knew was that the girl I'd fallen for had a sweet side she didn't show very often. Suffice to say, that from this point on in the story, Nikki had decided that her work was done in bringing us together for this moment, and was content letting Nicole enjoy every moment of her final wish.
“You call that fixed?” I looked at her questioningly, obviously worried.
She shrugged smoothly and looked at my tie, “Well, at least she fixed your tie for me...” she looked up at me with a stare I'd never seen before, somewhere between sadness and happiness, “I offered her a threesome, but she wasn't down.”

I laughed, despite myself, and slid my hands around her waist, “You're so mean.”
“She's mean!” Nicole shot back, frowning earnestly, “I told her to talk to you. Not fucking kiss you in front of me.”
I didn't really know what to say. Nicole was still a little strange to me, so I was at a loss.
“I guess I deserved it,” she said quietly after a moment. After that, Nicole looked at me, and she seemed to smile with just her emerald eyes. Her lips soon followed the eyes in smiling, and her head tilted slightly. I'm not sure what it was about the gesture or the way she looked at me, but something was saying 'hurry up and kiss me', so my lips met hers before a second thought passed my mind.
When we'd finished kissing, I looked at her strangely, my mind still hadn't quite comprehended that this was Nicole, “What did you two talk about, anyway?”
She shrugged cryptically, “Girl stuff. I don't wanna spend all night talking about the Japanese girl you know.”
I smirked, but something seemed cruel about the way Nicole was talking, so I put in, “She's a good person.”
Nicole nodded. “She is. Tell your mum you're staying at a friend's,” she said softly, taking my wrist and guiding me to the exit, her mouth growing into a smile “I've got a lot statutory rape to commit.” She gave me Nicole's version of a naughty grin.

Nicole was balking. She turned as white as chalk and stopped completely in her tracks. When my eyes followed her gaze, only one word came to my mind. Un-fucking-believable. Thomas Little was not a kind man. I think that phrase whenever I have to think about my father. It's involuntary, like a knee-jerk reflex. It's as if reminding myself that Thomas Little is a force of complete and total evil lets me know that nothing that happens in the typhoon of his destruction is my fault. The last time I met Thomas Little was in a carpark where I was kissing a girl named Nicole after going on a date with her. This time, I was meeting Thomas Little in a carpark, after going to my high-school formal with that very same girl named Nicole.

I remember shaking. I remember clenching my fists so hard that my fingernails bit painfully into my palms. I remember Nicole shrinking behind me. My father was just standing there, about fifty feet away. He was standing there like a corpulent pimple on the ass-end of society. I wanted to pop him so bad that I could break my teeth from clenching my jaw so hard. “Hello, son,” was all he said.

“How's school,” he said quietly after a second, it was like our ritual.
“Fine.” I was shaking in rage.
“How's your mother?”
“Fine.”
“Sister?” I never answered this question. Just looked at him and shot daggers with my eyes as hard as I could.
“I see you kept that whore I gave you,” he said slowly.
“She's NOT a whore!” I screamed it, demanding, “She's what /I/ say she is, and her NAME is Nicole Fisher!”
That made him angry. That was okay though, I liked making him angry. “DON'T talk to your father like that you ungrateful BRAT!”
“Ungrateful?!” I was clenching my teeth, “What'd YOU ever do for ME!”
“WHYY I OUGHTTA--” He strode over to me raising a backhand. He covered the distance in quite a short time considering that he looked sort of like an angry biker Santa Clause.

I was prepared to kill him. All of my fighting instincts went on fire when he approached me. I thought up my strategy almost instantaneously when he started approaching. Nothing could stop my father. I knew that as a fundamental fact, and it was as true when I was a seventeen-year-old boxer as when I was a fifteen-year-old boy. I thought though, maybe I could get a few good hits in, maybe I could let him know just how much I hated him and how badly I wanted to hurt him.

Nothing could stop my father. Except himself. I was so shocked when he stopped in his tracks, his backhand raised, that I almost unclenched my fists. He lowered his meaty paw slowly, and it dropped to his side, he just looked at me.”I didn't come here to yell at you.”
“So fuck off,” I didn't let up. Never give Thomas Little an inch.
“Just let me-”
“NO!” I started walking past him. He put a strong hand on my shoulder to stop me and I tried to rip it off. The difference in our strength was obvious immediately. It's hard to fathom just how big a man like Thomas Little is until you meet him, he was a champion powerlifter, and he had the disposition of a junk-yard dog. Suffice to say that I, once again, was forced to be subjected to his presence.

He didn't say much, my father. Just looked at me in that moment. By now I was fuming, castrated and humiliated again by Thomas Little. “What do you want anyway,” my words dripped with venom.
“... to talk to my son,” he said quietly.
“So TALK!” I just couldn't stand him, I honestly and truly couldn't.
“I came to hear your concert,” he said slowly, “The one you gave at the end of school last year.”
I looked away from him, I didn't even want to think about him listening to me play piano. Especially in the same room as my mother and sister.
“It sounded good... that Moonlight or whatever.” He closed his eyes, “Sounded... sad.”
My voice was monotone, sarcastic, “Glad you liked it.”
“Been following you lately...” he said, he always spoke so slowly and so softly. A man his size never really had to raise his voice. “Saw you at the arcade with the oriental broad again.”
I glanced at him, the fuck was he on about?
“You beat the pimp who beat you up two years ago,” he rumbled thoughtfully, “Got him good. I thought yeah... my son.”
“I'm not your son.”
He nodded, “I know, I know.” That surprised me, normally he'd fly off his rocker and start smashing things for a comment like that. He looked at me deeply with my eyes, I always hated how he had my eyes, “I was never good enough to be your old man, was I?”

I think that was the point I turned to him, the first time I really saw him that night. Thomas Little. I hated that name more than life itself. “Why are you here?” I asked the question a little softer this time.
“... to talk to my son,” he said it again in the same tone as before.
What the hell was he on about? What angle was he driving.
“Principle says you're off to university.”
I shrugged, “'snot that big a deal.”
“Says you almost dux'd the school.”
I shook my head, “Didn't have to, the bar for uni entry was too low, I could get in easy so I didn't bother.”
He nodded, “Other priorities?”
“Training, piano.”
His beard bristled as he pressed his lips together thoughtfully, “Those are good priorities. And the wh... this woman? Girlfriend?”
I shrugged, I didn't really know what to say.
He looked away, heaving a great sigh, “You became a good man, son. You're a much better man now than if I'd ever raised you. I have to admit that.”
“... thanks.”

He looked at me, with all the seriousness and conviction he could muster, “I only ever wanted the best for you,” he lied, “you should know that much about me.”
“... yeah,” I could lie too.
“What do you want me to do,” he almost said it soothingly, if I didn't hate him so much. “How... how do I redeem myself, to my only son?”
I knew he wouldn't do it. “Just go to prison,” I said it so coldly I could freeze ice. “Die there. Don't hurt anybody again.”
He was shaking, his voice was what passes for emotional in Thomas Little, “I just... I didn't want you to fuck a whore... son.”
“I. Wouldn't. Have.” I paused, glaring at him again, “She's not one.”
He spoke quietly, “If you say so.”

What passed after that was a quiet, tense silence. I hadn't even spared Nicole a glance during this encounter because I didn't want to look into her fear filled eyes. I would never be sure what was going through her mind when she was listening to this conversation. Knowing what I know now, she was probably feverishly constructing a fantasy so she didn't have to deal with meeting Thomas Little again.

“Do...” he spoke quietly, even quieter than normal, “Do you think...” he paused. He was looking for words, or trying to phrase this question, “Do you think, that one day... one day you could find it,” he paused, “Somewhere, anywhere inside you, to make a little Little one of these days?”
I stepped into his face, so that our noses were almost touching. My eyes were flared and I wanted him to feel the hate in my answer drip off my words, I whispered, “I will never. I will never, NEVER give anybody your name. I'm an Ymous. Your name dies with you.” I jabbed his chest with my finger and turned away.

He looked down, and closed his eyes softly. I removed myself from his personal space. He didn't say anything else after that. I didn't care to look at him anymore and just dragged Nicole along behind me. I think she threw her eyes behind her once or twice. I'm not sure of the expression that was on her face. We left a sad and evil man to stand in that carpark. Alone. That was how I wanted him to feel for what he did all those years ago, even if my brain wouldn't let me remember it properly.

When we were outside I was still quiet, still storming off with Nicole as fast as I could. I could feel Nicole being worried next to me, and I tried to keep all of my raging thoughts to myself. She tugged at my arm gently, and I turned to look down into those splendid green orbs. She reached up to brush some hair behind my ear, and we stopped to just stare at eachother for a moment. It was a strange effect, looking deep into Nicole's eyes. I described them before as haunting and sad, but the truth was simply that she'd learned to speak with them over the years, and that she was just normally sad as a default. The eyes could express different emotions when she wanted, she'd used them on me when I was strangling her to calm me down, and she was using them on me right then. She brushed my cheek, and leaned against me softly. My rage left as quickly as it had come, when I was reminded that the only important thing, was being with the girl next to me.

It was a little Motel on the south side of Brisbane that we were heading to. I asked about condoms but Nicole told me she got checked by a doctor for viruses and that she'd long been infertile so it didn't matter. She told me that the rules for the night were 'No L-word, no forever and call me Nicole' and that she'd teach me everything I wanted to know. She was oddly quiet on the bus though, we didn't really talk for the rest of the trip. She just squeezed my hand and stared silently out the window at the lights flashing by. The bus trip actually gave me some time to think, some time to reflect in my own mind. I thought about everything that happened, Nikki, the piano, the chicken shed. I looked at the back of the curly red haired girl beside me and I couldn't help but smile a little to myself. It all came down to this. Unless the bus crashes or a herd of elephants stop us or China decides to nuke Australia, I was actually going to lose my virginity tonight, to the woman that I'd wanted to lose it to three years ago.

As we were walking to the motel, I was thinking that Nikki must not have felt the same way I did. I was just going to be another guy to her, another pebble on the side of the road. To me, Nikki was an amazing, vibrant and sexual creature that had a fun life of debauchery and sin that she reveled in. I was just some guy she thought was cute and someone she wanted to 'show the ropes' to. When I look back on it though and think about Nicole, this must have felt like the end of the longest journey she'd ever taken. Finally throwing the ring into the volcano.

We were outside the motel door before we spoke again. Nicole span on her heel and got up on her toes to give me a quick kiss. “Wait here,” she instructed. I did as she said and the door closed behind her back. Door three-two-seven. I remembered that number forever. It's funny, the little things you remember about your first time, a song playing in the background, the colour of the sheets. It's just little unimportant details that nobody cares about except for you, those little things that make it YOUR experience and YOUR special time. I leaned against the railing of the complex and looked out over the car-park. I heard the sound of Nicole turning the shower on behind me, the hiss of water hitting a bathtub. 'I guess she wants a shower' I thought to myself.

The door opened behind me and I turned around. Her skin still dry, curled red hair falling the same way over her shoulders, Nicole was wearing only a red bath towel. Without speaking, and looking very serious, she beckoned me inside. “Take off your clothes and come in,” she said once I was in the room, she disappeared into the bathroom. Rather unromantic. I wasn't even, well, hard! Was this really how she wanted me to remember having my first time? A mechanical 'Hi howdeedoo' then a 'thrust thrust finish'? It was actually somewhat practical for her not to rip my clothes of in a seduced passion though, the suit was a rental.

When I was finished undressing, I wrapped the matching red towel around my waist and opened the bathroom door. Steam was everywhere. The tiles were a sort of beige colour, the mirrors were all fogged up. The shower was a bathtub and shower combo, and the curtains had ducks on it. The thing in the room that captured my attention though, was the naked woman with Irish heritage that stood before me.

She'd washed off her makeup before I came in, so her face showed only the natural beauty she contained. Her shoulders were freckly, and her breasts had a small mark over her left nipple. I could only see her front at this stage, and what I saw I liked. She had an arm folded across her C-cup breasts, and her other one placed across her Venus mound. She was completely bare, and breathing slowly, cheeks flushed from the heat of the steam that rose from the shower.

“I thought about this for a long time,” she spoke, looking up to meet my eyes with hers. Nervous? She continued, “How do I make Anon's first time special?” She took a step away from the wall, not yet dropping her arms, “I thought, I've done everything. There's nothing that some guy hasn't suggested that I've already done three times, so some guy who's never had sex won't have anything new in his imagination.”
I shrugged softly, “It's okay, as long as it's with you.”
She shook her head, “I want this to be special for me too.” She looked away, “I want to remember little Anon and his music, and how he saved me from that mean guy. I want to remember...” she approached me, removing the hand from her pubic mound so that she could gently place her five fingers against my chest. She met my eyes, “I want to remember the boy I watched grow into a man.”
I nodded slowly and put my arms on her shoulders, “So what did you come up with?”
She took a step back from me, looking serious, “It might seem a little strange for me to say... but I wanted you to see me naked.” I think I frowned in confusion, but she continued before I could interrupt. Shrugging, she said, “It's not that hard. I mean, for a man to see my skin. I've flashed tits at school buses and shown pussy to random guys in clubs...” she looked at me deep in the eyes, “But nobody's really seen me naked before.”

Before I could ask what she was doing, Nicole turned around. She pulled her hair across her shoulder over her front, so that I could see her entire back. “It's shameful,” she spoke so softly I barely heard her. Her figure was quite nice, the pale skin and the freckles that ended just under her shoulder. That wasn't what I was looking at though. Across her back, Nicole had put a tattoo. She didn't have it at the beach, I definitely would have noticed it, so she must have done it in at some point before the formal. Just for me to see her, naked.

The tattoo was a diamond, but it was probably intended to be a crystal. A black outline of a diamond that stretched from her tailbone and up across the wings of her shoulder blades and ending under the nape of her neck. Inside the hollow crystal was text. Names and words all squished together in all sorts of different sizes and fonts to form a complete and incoherent jumble. Freddy, Damian, Luke, Mr. Mattson, Julian... it went on and on and completely covered her back. After the names ran out, there were insults, slut, whore, dirty, prostitute, mole, cumdump... All insults written in a gothic pen with flowing lettering. To describe the tattoo properly, you have to think about all these words overlapping with each other, all interconnecting so that there was no space inbetween. It was like an M. C. Escher painting of all the darkness in her life, all encapsulated in a black crystal that covered her tiny, beautiful eighteen-year-old back. It was etched forever onto her flawless, pale skin. I realised after I saw the tattoo that her dress had been designed to cover it.

“You don't have to sleep with me,” she said softly, she was trembling slightly. “I just... wanted you to know who I was... before you did.” She turned her head, so she could meet my eyes, “This ink will never wash out... no matter how hard you scrub, or how clean you try to make me. This tattoo is who I am.”
I rested my hands on her shoulders gently. I really wasn't sure how the tattoo made me feel. Of course, I knew even when she was fifteen that she was the kind of girl who ate dicks for breakfast, but it was different being confronted with it in this way. I leaned across her to kiss her cheek softly, and then held her tiny naked body and pressed it against my chest.

Even though all those names and words were inked onto her back, I was the first guy who'd ever seen it. She must have trusted me a lot more than I realised, because I'm not sure how many guys would see a tattoo like that and still accept the woman into their bed. Looking back on it though Nicole really had nothing to lose, I was either going to sleep with her and she'd die, or I wasn't and she'd die. I guess she really did want this moment to be special, she really did want this to be the night where for the first time, she presented and was accepted as who she really was: Nicole Fisher.

I didn't try to argue with her about the tattoo. I remembered that she told me that she hated pretty lies. Nicole really felt that this tattoo was who she was and I wasn't able to argue. I turned her around, and leaned down to kiss her. Her head tilted to accept, and soon I felt both her arms lock across my back. When we broke, I was able to give my response, “I think...” I was trying to put it right, “Everyone has a little ink on their back. Not losing my virginity just because you have a new tattoo doesn't make sense. So let's have fun.”

She smiled sweetly and pulled me down into a kiss. Nicole didn't grin from ear to ear like her sister did, but when she grinned her face really expressed total joy. Grabbing my wrist, she pulled me immediately into the bathtub, and the hot water pelting down. I guess we were still going to have a shower anyway. I was sweaty from dancing after all.

The hot water stung my skin, the only other sensation was the feeling of Nicole's breasts pressed against me. The water pressed her hair against her skin, and it stuck to her pale, soft shoulders as if glued there. One lock of curled hair went down and covered her supple breasts. She kissed me while she lathered the bodywash in her hands, and then ran her soapy hands over the contours of my body. I closed my eyes while she worked, enjoying the hot water pelting my skin.

The sensation of being washed by a woman, I would describe it to those who haven't experienced it as a distinct feeling of dominance. It's like the hands that she uses are there and exist just to clean you. It's a naturally servile gesture, a girl being on her knees and running her hands up your thigh to make sure you're clean, but it's not like a master and servant relationship existed between us. I know this, because when I washed her I didn't feel like I was serving her when I ran my hands across her breasts, or touched her pubic mound gently with nervous fingers. It was exploratory, a statement of 'here is my body, touch it as you will', a silent message that passed between us with every stroke and soft kiss.

While I admit I felt dominant with respect to her as she knelt and rubbed soap along the erection she enticed out of me, I felt at the same time that she was still in complete control of her will. When I reciprocated by washing her breasts and cleaning inside her vagina with my fingers the feeling of dominance was replaced by a feeling of giving. She gave her body to me as I gave mine to her. She washed me because she loved me. She wanted to touch my body in every place and make sure it was clean. She peeled back my foreskin and cleaned the knob with her tongue without complaint. She wasn't serving me when she washed me, she was simply washing me so that I'd be clean for her.

I pressed her soap covered body against the wall and we shared a wet kiss. Tongues lapping and soapy breasts massaging my chest. When service goes both ways, then it's hard to call one partner dominant and the other partner submissive. I wasn't there to feel like a symbol of male conquest over the female form, I was there to feel a connection with a woman I loved. I traced my fingers down along her tattooed back, and pressed my erection against her thigh. I lifted her body, and her leg wrapped around me while we kissed.

Her body was mine to lift and ply, her breasts were mine to squeeze and suck, her legs were mine to open and fuck. Even though her body totally belonged to me, and she wanted me to enjoy it, I didn't feel like it was a statement of masculinity to lift her off her feet and pull gently at her hair. It wasn't about me being dominant or her being submissive because this was what we both wanted. She moaned to encourage me, and grinded her bare body against mine to tell me how much she wanted more. There was no real power relationship in that steaming shower with our genitalia excited and our bodies pressing and connecting with eachother... just sex. Something we'd both been aching for for a very long time.

She reached down, her legs were wrapped around my waist so she was reaching under her body, and stroked gently over my soap-covered shaft. “I like it...” she purred into my ear.
I smiled bashfully, “How did you know what I was thinking?” our eyes were flicking over each other's faces.
She shrugged, “Guys always wonder...” she kissed me softly, “Yours is nice.”
“You're not just saying that are you?” I was self conscious. First time after all.
Nicole giggled, “Size and shape doesn't matter so much...” she tilted her head and thought for a second, “Within reason of course. If you were a horse you'd probably break something.”
I snickered and kissed her, moving the kiss down to her neck and biting softly, “So what does matter? If you're the expert...”
I'm pretty sure she smiled, closing her eyes to enjoy me biting her neck, “As the expert,” she said laughing softly, “I'd say all that matters to me is that you have fun.”
I looked at her seriously, “What about orgasm?”
She shrugged, “I can't. Not everybody can. I've known guys who can't orgasm either, even though that's less common. Being good at sex isn't all about orgasms and thrusting, no matter how much porn makes it out to be.”
I was still a little confused at this point, so I shifted my weight to let her down, “So what is being good at sex?” I pursed my lips thoughtfully, “I mean, some sex is better than others, right?”
Nicole giggled, and pressed her body against mine to kiss me again, “Of course! Some guys are terrible.” She smiled sweetly, “Don't worry Anon, we started having good sex the second we entered this shower.” She kissed me again and reached behind me to turn the head off.

With our bodies rinsed, we stepped out into the steaming room and grabbed the towels to dry off. I dried Nicole's back by patting it gently, and looked over the tattoo again. So many words and names, etched onto her soul forever. She said it would never wash off, and it didn't. I kissed the back of her neck. “Why did you do this?” I asked softly, “I mean, I really appreciate it, but I don't think the next guy...”
Her hand reached behind her to stroke my cheek, “There won't be a next guy, Anon.” She turned around to hug me, “I'm going to settle down. I don't like this tattoo, I'm sick of these guys, and all these names. I want your name to be the last one I get...” she pressed her hand against her chest, “...here.”
I frowned, “But what about a husband... kids...”
She giggled and shook her head, “I'm infertile, idiot.” She shrugged and turned her head, “I might adopt one day.”
“Fair enough then.”

When our bodies were sufficiently dry, Nicole grabbed my wrist and guided me out of the bathroom and over to the bed. There was a small gesture at this time that's always stuck with me in this moment. Nicole pulling me to the bed, her wet curls flicking water everywhere when she whipped her head around to look at me for just a second. The impression was really like a nymph guiding me to her secret place; like two children running through a grassy meadow together and one whipping their head around quickly to make sure the other is alright. I didn't think of it at the time, but it was like some of my first sexual fantasies with Nicole coming true; her as a fairy in her birthday suit guiding me to make love in the soft and loamy grass. Now if only she'd wear skin-tight lycra and bust in through the window, that would be perfect.

She laid back with me over her, and we stared into each other's eyes for a spell. Our faces pressed together and our lips met in a kiss. Laying over a girl and kissing her is nice. I figured at the time that things would feel a bit squishy for the girl, with my heavier body compressing her, but Dee described the feeling of having a man on her as 'comforting' later so I don't really think about it anymore. I was propped on my elbows anyway, so my full weight wasn't really on her.

Nicole was alternating between guiding her fingers over my chest, and wrapping around to gently scratch down my back. My erection was hanging down between my legs, and I could feel it spreading its scent across her pubic hair. We were grinding. Grinding, the sensation of want, it's got a unique pressure to it that you don't really feel with the other aspects of sex. There's no direct stimulation, but any slip up between you or her and you know that your bodies will connect in the primal bond that links men and women. The desire for sex is overflowing at the grinding stage, there's no longer room for reconsideration. The boner is painful, the cunt gushes and wets her inner thigh. The bodies that our minds are contained in are going wild, animalistic. We can have sex at any time, and the only reason we don't is because we want to drink every sensation that our bodies are offering to eachother.

Nicole pushed against my chest, and I rolled off her. Sitting up, she reached over to the nightstand to grab some KY. She clicked it open and spread it over her hands while she looked at me, I frowned softly, “How come the lube?”
“I have a medical condition,” she explained easily, “My body doesn't lubricate properly. Dries up almost immediately after penetration.” She lay next to me and kissed my cheek, while she pumped my hard cock to lubricate it, “If you fuck me dry with a cucumber like this I'll fall to pieces.”
I shit you not I almost busted my first nut hard in that hand. Dee had given me a lubricated handjob as well, which I imagined to be Nikki giving me a blowjob, but it was nothing like the way Nicole gingerly stroked every inch of my cock.

There's no substitute for experience. Nicole was better at this than Dee. Dee had pumped it furiously, she'd learned how to do it from watching porn. She gripped hard and just went for broke like what she saw. Nicole on the other hand was incredibly slow with the way she stroked it. Her soft hands behaved as if they were moulding clay, and most importantly: I could watch. Men are very visual with sex, and being able to watch while Nicole drew her fingers up along the shaft was incredibly sexy. She'd squeeze it at intervals, peel back the foreskin and tickle the glans. She'd cup my testicles and lick my ear gently, “I can't wait for you to empty these in me.” She wanted to tickle my spine with the tingles she gave me, she wanted to entice my cock into its full and utmost length. Everything about what she did was about getting the blood of my body where it needed to be, to make my dick hard, harder than it ever would be and harder than I ever thought it could be. A handjob isn't the end of sex. It shouldn't feel like a moist pussy wrapping around your cock. A handjob is the promise that the pussy is coming; the idea that while this feels good, the waiting cunt she has will be even better.

Nicole propped herself up on her elbow, and pushed her hair behind her shoulder, “So, stud,” she said with a kiss, “Top or bottom?”
I looked at her and felt myself grin. I lunged at her, tickling her ribs to make her laugh. She screamed in laughter and wriggled. I growled and behaved like an animal for fun while we wrestled. She play-acted and pushed against me, but I bit her neck to make her moan. I tugged at her hair to show her I was boss, and she cooed to let me know that she didn't need to be told. Shortly, my body was over hers again, and she was pressing her naked body desperately against mine. Horny. I traced the contour of her body while she waited, containing her lust in the soft moaning noises she was making. Her soft, pale skin that tingled with goosebumps, her nipples standing erect on those delicious mouthfuls she had for breasts. Every writhe and wriggle she made was with the full intention of bringing my cock into her waiting sheath.

“Trade secret...” she winked at me, and reached over her head to grab her pillow. Without me getting off her, she put the pillow underneath her butt to lift her hips for the right angle to penetrate. We were both breathing heavy, and her hand was gripping my cock which was hard like titanium, adamantium, deuterinium and any other goddamn metal that ends in -inium I would care to compare it to. I pressed my hips forward, her hands holding my cock so sweetly. Her trembling voice matching the little shakes I could see her body making, “Your first and my last, Anon.” Her eyes met mine and I remember just staring into those lovely green eyes. I could get lost in them without trying. “Are you ready?”
I answered her by kissing, and pressing my hips forwards. Finally! I could thrust forth into a waiting cunt and feel the delicious sensation of a vagina!!

I was half expecting, or I wanted rather, for the roof to open up at that point and a great beam of light to shine down on us while a chorus of angels sang “Hallelujah!!” but the truth was that Nicole and I just moaned. I'm assuming, that if you're reading a story about a man losing his virginity, that you're either a man who's curious about sex, or a person who wants a recently-former virgin's impression of sex, so that's how I'll frame it. I'll try to describe the emotions first, and then go back to the physicality.

There are a lot of classic metaphors for sex. Waves lapping against a beach with the water slowly swelling, a train zooming through a tunnel, a rocket shuddering as it launches itself with all of its immense power into the forbidden depths of space. Of all the metaphors and similies I could use, and have been used to describe sex, I think the one I'll pick is Space Oddity. If you need to listen to it just youtube the thing. There's a surreality to sex that's really hard to describe. You have to realise that the person under (or over) you is another person. That's self evident of course, but during sex you can feel their heart beating with yours. That mass of cells, organs, those veins that carry the blood, the little neural signals that make their eyes move and fingers stroke you tenderly. Everything about that other being is a person just like you, and they want to be there just like you do. Sex with another person is a full frontal realisation that we aren't truly alone in this world, that there are people just like us.

So why Space Oddity? Well, think about the astronaut. He's just flung himself into space, everybody's watching him. He goes through all the mechanics, does everything right, does all the checks, and then the build starts with the line “...detach from station and may God's love be with you”. It doesn't matter how much we prepare ourselves for sex, it doesn't matter how much we research or read up on it. It'll just happen. Whatever happens while you have sex will just happen and none of us have any true control. When you're at the back, your pubic bones pressed together and your cock is sunk in as far as it will go, it's just all up to God. Maybe you'll both have fun, maybe it'll suck. It doesn't really matter as long as you're with a person that you want to be with. Nicole was right, whether you have a cock of titans that makes women kill eachother for the orgasms they dispense, or you're a Pee Wee Herman, the woman you're with doesn't care. She just wants to fly with you into space and have fun and be with you. As long as she can, she wants to feel that connection with another person, she wants to feel like there's another living being with her and that she doesn't have to be in a world full of faceless people and fake friends who don't care. Sex is being alone in space like Major Tom, but not feeling lonely because of the person holding you, because ground control is always on the radio guiding you through, as if it was right next to you the whole time.

“Too fast,” she whispered softly, instructing me, “Start slow, build the pleasure. Tease.”
Well that wasn't hard. I guess I was a little zealous for my first time. My cock slipped through Nicole's vagina as if they were built for eachother. I mean, I guess they were. It's not like we're NOT meant to have sex, so it's natural to feel like the woman's privates are built for the man's. The strokes were slow and soft. I honestly thought in the back of my mind that it'd feel rather loose, because of Nicole's history, but like I said before nothing beats experience. Her cunt was skilled, and did something I've never felt since. Whenever I pulled back, I felt it sucking me back in. Her pelvic floor was so strong and well trained that she did it without thinking; rhythmically tightening her entire cunt to suckle at my cock gently while I fucked her.

She closed her eyes to surrender to the pleasure, and I kissed her. The other thing about sex that I didn't really mention while talking about Space Oddity, it feels damn good. I don't exactly want to oversell it, because if you haven't done it before then I think there's way too much expectation placed on how it physically feels. But it feels damn good. It's that tingling sensation that you get while masturbating that you feel. You can feel your heart jumping out of your chest, and you're treated to the sound of the girl your with moaning softly. Every little gasp and breath is important, to describe one and leave the others out is unfair. Nicole pressed her hand against my chest and writhed, pressing her body eagerly and wantonly onto my dick.

She scratched me down the back. Her body was screaming 'FUCK ME!' but I kept the slow rhythm to torment her and watched her in sweet agony. “Doooon't~” she moaned and pressed her head back into the pillow, she threw her cheek to the side and flinched, “Daddy, please...” she whispered. I think I got a little freaked at that and pulled out to look at her. Nicole whipped her head to look at me with surprise written on her face. As she panted to calm down, she stroked my hair softly, “Sorry...” she said, looking sheepish, “That doesn't normally happen.”
“Are you okay?”
She nodded and took a deep breath, “I was actually enjoying it...” she ran her hand against my cheek, “I say some fucked up shit sometimes,” she reached up to kiss me, “I'll try not to talk. Just ignore whatever I say.”

We started again. She gasped as I entered, and her body writhed when I was hilted. Nicole breathed out a moan and wriggled her hips slowly, I started moving in the slow rhythm again. “No, that's not right,” she said softly. “You should fuck me now...” I tilted my head, but I started to move my hips harder. Nicole bit her lip and her body bounced with the force of my thrusting, she collected herself, to talk and think about what she wanted to say, “Thrust... hah... to a rhythm.” She squeezed out a long moan, her body twitching all over, “One-two-three-four... ahn... think music.” And so I did. I started playing a song in my head that was easy to keep to. Thinking about music and distracting myself with counting actually took away a little from the rising tension I could feel in my body, but I could also tell immediately why I should be doing it.

As Nicole fell into the rhythm, her body started to thrash more. She'd meet me with trembling kisses as my tempo naturally increased. With the pillow raising her hips, we were at a perfect angle to fuck hard and comfortably. I felt like any of my thrusts could be the one to push me over the top. I felt a primal urge to impregnate her rising in me. Her clenching cunt was inviting me with every squeeze. 'Dump it' her body told me, 'Fertilise me'. I didn't need to be told, I started moving with the rising passion, and thrust my cock harder and deeper as I went. I'd alternate the rhythm now and then to build her small climaxes, change the angle of penetration to surprise her, and stay buried in her balls deep so that her body could enjoy the size and shape of the cock fucking her.

“Daddy! Daddy!” She started moaning it. She'd lost control of her mouth again. Maybe she wanted to roleplay? I didn't know. I bit her neck and kept thrusting hard and deep. I could feel fatigue setting in and I desperately wanted to reach the peak and cum in my first woman before I stopped. There's a lot less romance at this stage of sex. At some point it moves from a surreal experience to being all about just a hard dick and a wet cunt sliding together. The anatomy comes together with one desperate purpose: making babies. Nicole's entire being at that moment was centered around the goal of me cumming inside her, her body wanted it, her brain wanted it. At some point sex moves from an expression of closeness to a desperate urge to breed. That's how you know you're at the tip of the rising action.

I probably don't have to tell you what it feels like to want to impregnate a woman, but I will anyway. At this point, I think Nicole's legs and arms were both wrapped around me, and I was enjoying her body desperately trying to cum while she was crying and screaming 'Daddy stop please' over and over again. Sex had come full circle and was now only about the climax. The grand ideals of romance and togetherness were out the window and I was trying my damnedest to get the cum out of my testicles and into the womb of the woman I was fucking. Imagery flashed in my head of those old science tapes everyone's seen, a brave little sperm going into an egg.

It was hard to concentrate with Nicole screaming her pain, but she'd told me to ignore it, and it wasn't me who she was telling to stop so I kept going. Every now and then Nicole's body would tense and writhe in pleasure to let me know that it was indeed pleasure she was experiencing and her mouth was just running. I hoped to God it wasn't some horrible flashback, but that still wasn't at the forefront of my mind. Her cunt was twitching, my artificially lubricated dick was absolutely hammering. One overriding thought was present in my brain as I approached the climax. Make. A. Baby! It didn't matter to me that her body was infertile, the only thing I wanted to do was empty my balls and have her young, supple body accept my cum. I gritted my teeth and lifted my body, pinning her there by the shoulders. She was going to stop her bullshit and take my seed. Her panting, tear soaked face looked up into mine. I didn't care at that point. I didn't care about her issues or what she was going through. All I wanted, the one thing I wanted for my beautiful Nicole was for her to take my cum and make a child with it, one with red hair and my eyes.

Her lip trembled, and I lost control of the thrusting. The penis grows slightly when it ejaculates. I'm not sure if a woman can feel that or not, but Nicole certainly reacted as if she could. Her head tilted back, and her eyelids trembled and flickered. She'd already told me she couldn't experience an orgasm, so I knew that's not what it was. Some sort of acting or faking, but it still seemed like some sort of pleasure climax. Maybe she felt the energy from my own orgasm, or her body wanted to enhance my experience. It didn't really matter. “Anoooon~” the long moan of my name and the feeling of her hands wrapping around me and squeezing my body, as if you'd squeeze a toothpaste tube to get the last few drops out, she wanted every drop of my cum inside her. Legs wrapped around my hips helped the complete squeezing feeling. She wanted to make sure that my cock stayed in, plugging her, keeping the cum pushed right up against the wall of the cervix and swimming up inside the womb eagerly.

You can't describe an orgasm. There's not really any experience to compare it to. An orgasm is an orgasm. I believe there's actually a unique word to describe the concept of an orgasm in every human language. That says something about the feeling. It's a unique and important feeling to our existence; the orgasm. If you want it, just touch your genitals for a bit while you look at some porn and you'll find it. Physically that's what an orgasm and cumming feels like. Cum leaves your body and goes off on its merry way, and you're left with an overall tingling sensation and a total sense of immense pleasure.

If I had to describe cumming inside a woman and completing my deflowering, well that's a little different. Cumming inside a woman, I would use the word 'complete'. It's a feeling you really only get from being inside and having her body underneath yours. You think about things like how beautiful she looks, and comprehend everything you've both just been through. You both just had sex. You both expressed to each other your joint longing for the other's body. You were just closer with a person than you've ever been in your entire life and it felt good. You kiss her tenderly, probably half to apologise for some of the things that raced through your head while you were fucking her, but mostly just to kiss her.

I stayed inside her, and rested my body over hers again. She just smiled and held me. “That was good,” she whispered softly, settling her body. She didn't need to say it with her words, ninety percent of human communication is non-verbal, and her whole body was already raving about the sex. Her body was hot and sweating, her hair was haggard and everywhere, she trembled with a squeak whenever I twitched my cock in her. Having done its business, my cock settled itself slowly, and I drew it out.

Our naked bodies pressed against each other on the sheets after we were disconnected. We shifted underneath the covers, and Nicole reached over to turn off the light. One of the things about sex, is that it's fairly exhausting. We were only exercising for about maybe twenty to thirty minutes, but we were worn. It wasn't long before I was holding her precious form and drifting comfortably in and out of sleep in a post-orgasm blissful haze. And thus my first time was complete, and I was no longer a virgin. I was glad during the sex that I'd chosen Nicole for the experience, or that fate had chosen her. If I'd lost it to Dee I'm sure the whole thing would have just been painful for her and sucked. I didn't know what to do, how to thrust, how quick to go or anything about foreplay. How could I? Not like it's taught in school. Having someone experienced for your first time is definitely the best way to go, she gave me some really good feedback, and held my hand through the whole thing.

I woke up to the sensation of sunlight on my face. As my consciousness flickered in and out, I felt around with my hand. Nicole was gone. I lifted up my body, blinking in the morning light and looking around dazed. Where was she? The bed was empty except for me, she'd gone like a dream. I got up and looked around the room, her clothes were gone, nobody in the shower. My attention was drawn eventually to a small note left on the dresser. It was written in pink pen, with a lipstick kiss in the corner, 'Hey stud! B- at best sweety. Make sure you practice on lots of cute blonds in uni! xoxo!' I smirked and flipped the note over in my hand. Sitting down on the bed, the radio alarm came on at the same time while I read the message on the other side, it was written in purple 'Anon. Well what can I say? For that to be my last time, I'm so glad it was with you. You already know I'll love you forever, and I'll treasure that precious memory I've had of you and your piano until the day I die.'

Two messages, both in Nicole's handwriting but written in different pen. I sat there, turning the paper over in my hand over and over again. I tried to work out what it meant. I recognised those sides of her, the sexual vixen that first seduced me, and that sweet girl that I fell in love with. I looked out the window at the tops of the trees and thought about it. The paper was like a true metaphor for Nicole Fisher, two sides to a single coin.

And... over the radio? The lyrics filled the air:

Boom boom acka lacka lacka boom!
Boom boom acka lacka boom boom
It was a night like this! Forty million years ago
I lit a cigarette, picked up a monkey, start to go
The sun was spitting fire, the sky was blue as ice
I felt a little tired, so I watched 'Miami Vice'

I walked the diiiiinosaaaauuuur! I walked the diiiinosaaauuuuur~~

Open the door, get on the floor
Everybody walk the dinosaur
Open the door, get on the floor
Everybody walk the dinosaur

Fin.

>>20256

Well you were WRONG son.

Epilogue is still to come dudes, so stay tuned.

>>20248
Actually yes I would, there are at least like 10 stories I have read on here that if I had the money I would just throw at the authors to finish. You know like strippers on a stripper pole? Except 100 dollars bills. Too bad I don't have the money.

>>20258
lol you fuck! cant wait for the epilogue!

You have serious talent man. If this is ever published, I will be first in line to get a copy. Personally, I like reading nikki's story after the rest. It makes more sense in my head to reveal her full story after yours. I guess it's the clarity it provides for her actions. That's just me, though, keep doing your thing. You've continually impressed me with each chapter.

I awoke to the sound of clattering plates. Dreams fading immediately, I stayed in bed for a little just to listen to it. I thought about things in that bed sometimes, what was here, what happened in this room and what could have been. I dispel the thoughts as I get up and pull on my boxer briefs. Heading downstairs to the source of the clattering noise, I see what I already suspected the noise to be. Dee humming quietly while she washed the dishes.

She always did that the morning after sex. Cleaning. It's like some instinct takes over her and she decides to go do something, or feels energised to fix something up. I'm quite the opposite, after sex I just think about having more sex with her. We were probably about twenty-one at this stage, four years since the events of high-school. She'd forgiven me in her roundabout way in second year, we spoke again in a cafe, and I was understandably horrified when Dee told me about the conversation she'd had with Nikki. Dee was equally understandably horrified when I showed her the note Nicole/Nikki had left me.

That was two years ago though, we'd both dated some people, ended up fucking, broke up, fucked again at new years. It was a strange relationship I had with Deborah Lang. We were about to break up a few months from the scene I'm describing but neither of us knew it yet. Or we did, we just didn't care. We seemed to hate each other's guts and get along like best friends at the same time... in fact I can prove it. I snuck up behind her that morning and swatted her butt while she cleaned the dishes. She was only wearing my t-shirt and some panties, so I felt like it.

“Pig,” she spat at me.
“You love it,” I smiled back.
“Fuck you.” She was a lot easier with her tongue after she tried pot.
“That's your job.” I saw her shoulders shake softly while she giggled.

I reached around her and drew her into a kiss, “I'm... mmf... I'm wash-” she giggled when I started tickling her, then she kicked me hard in the shin, “I'm washing the fucking dishes, rack off.”
“I'll dry.” I said it to apologise. My shin smarted, but I pretended it didn't hurt. Dee was a girl you really had to read the mood off. There was a playful 'no' that meant I could get away with teasing her more, and there was a strict 'I'll fucking kill you' no that meant you had to do something to make up for it. It's what a lot of her boyfriends sort of failed at, reading the mood. I think Dee's current fiance has a good knack for it, I hear he likes sushi too... lucky bastard.

We washed the dishes in silence for a spell, me mostly naked and her half naked. I was busy drying a plate when she said “You should put a shirt on, Jousuke will be up soon.”
“Jousuke's at mums.”
Dee spun on her heels and looked at me with her jaw open, “Well he didn't tell me!!”
I shook my head, “You're not his mother.”
Dee hated that line, I immediately regretted saying it. She glared at me, “Well /his mother/ is busy fucking off to Japan! What the fuck am I supposed to do?!”
I knew that tone. I put the plate down and put my hands on her shoulders, I knew exactly how this script went down, 'Don't try to calm me down'
“Don't try to calm me down!!”
And then 'I'll get mad if I bloody well please'
“I'll get mad if I bloody well please!”
Followed by 'Jousuke should focus on his fucking studies, it's his last year of school, how's he going to get a job at this rate?!'
Well... let's just say I was right about that too. Dee stopped ranting after about five minutes and I kissed her when it was over. Sometimes she just had to blow her top to let off some steam. She really was like a little Japanese kettle sometimes.

Jousuke and Tommy were still close friends at this point. As far as I know they still are. Despite his sister's efforts... or maybe to spite his sister's efforts he ended up competing in a national Tekken league. I think he came fifth or something, Tommy was pretty devastated. Tommy ended up putting his people skills to good use and became a salesman. Pretty good one too if what he tells me is accurate.

“You know the day?” I asked Dee, we were chatting over cereal.
“Yeah...” she said quietly, “You wanna pack lunch?”
I shook my head, “We'll get something while we're out.”

Mum and Ron are still friends. Mum never really moved in with Freddy, so I guess that sort of stayed complicated. Ron still talks to me from time to time about love, life and all the rest. Don't see him as often though since I moved out. Last I spoke to him he'd taken a trip around Queensland and decided to head out country. He's probably living on some ridiculously idyllic mountain home, painting it over and over and listening to Neil Diamond while he works. He always liked the mountains.

The car trip with Dee was quiet. We both knew each other better than to talk. There wasn't much to say anyway, considering where we were going. I looked out at the rushing scenery and just sort of... I don't know, looked at it. Dee was driving, I didn't like driving on December eighth.

Not much to say about my school friends or Smiddy. Mr. Smith is still a teacher, The Goose is still a boring old fuck. Most of my school friends took honest jobs or went to uni. My sister actually did end up fulfilling her dream of being a policewoman. She met her husband on the job, he was fixing a machine at a cafe that got robbed.

Dee pulled up to the cemetery, and we stepped out. We made our way across the grounds slowly. I didn't really want to be here, I don't think Dee did either. Every December eighth though we'd force ourselves to confront that person that drew the two of us together. That common bond of shared history that made us never really hate eachother. The one thing that could remind us what was more important than pride, love or anything else in our trivial, small lives.

As for Lao Nuk? Well he retired eventually. I quit boxing around the same time. Never had an actual fight in the end, didn't really have the stomach for it truth be told. I started out by studying rocketry in university but I didn't really like it much, so I switched majors a few times and ended up in Astronomy. So there you go Nikki, you ended up fucking an astronomer instead of a rocket scientist, but I did my best. As for relationships after Nikki? Well, I took her advice. Fucked some blonds, dated a Japanese girl on and off and had some fun. I'm currently recruiting a wife I guess, but it doesn't feel that important to me. I'm still young.

We ended up in front of her grave. Here lies Nicole Fisher, etc. There's no real epitaph, no statement saying that she was a beloved daughter or a respected mother. Just a simple piece of carved stone to state that she ever lived at all, and that she died at the tender age of nineteen. The coroner never even worked out when she died properly. They found her carcass after it was all destroyed and picked apart by carrion birds. And so she died as she lived, feeling unloved and alone. It fucks me over to think about her last night on Earth, what she must have thought about, who she cared about, what she remembered. I think about my one and only time with her now and then, I think about the soothing music I was listening to in my head while she was screaming 'No! Daddy stop! Please just stop!' and wailing. It's a haunting sound.

Dee and I don't try to guess the exact date she took her own life, because we both already know when Nicole Fisher was killed, and that's the anniversary we remember her. December eighth 1994. The day her father killed her by raping his own eight year old daughter. Eight fucking years. She should've been playing with fucking barbies and wearing pretty dresses, but she was too fucking busy getting raped. I cry at the grave, and Dee puts her hand on my shoulder, she's probably crying too.

And so we come to the end of our story, at a lonely grave that nobody cares about. But to me this isn't the same story as what most people read. It's not a story about sex and depravity, or how I lost my virginity, it's not even a story about the horrors of child abuse and the long twist of the knife. Early this year, Thomas Little died. He was also unloved and will soon be forgotten. For what it's worth, he actually did redeem himself somewhat in my eyes by going to jail and dying there. He wound up in prison in July the year after Nikki and I were together. He went on a spree killing and murdered five people.

In amongst Thomas Little's personal effects, was you. You just don't make any fucking sense. I look at your picture every fucking night and ask myself 'how'. I've looked for you, looked for you everywhere but for the life of me, no matter what I do or how much research I put in I just can't fucking find you. I've run myself ragged, I've run Dee ragged too. But you exist. The proof is right here in my fucking hands in this photo. My eyes, your mother's hair.

This story isn't about Nikki, Dee or even me. This story, this whole sordid fucking tale that I just want to forget and bury, it's all here in the vague hope that you might read it one day. Because there's one thing that Nikki taught me, one thing that Thomas Little, Ron and even Dee taught me. One single fucking lesson in all of this that I took home, and that you can take home too. A boy needs his father. A boy needs his father to grow, and to learn, and to emulate. A loving father can be the difference between a guy who grows up to be an astronomer, and a girl who winds up dead and unloved at nineteen.

I couldn't find you, son. I looked into every orphanage, every adoption agency and every other fucking place I could think of. I couldn't find you. But maybe, if you read this, you can find me. I think I've left enough clues. I'm tired of being your anonymous father.

>>20266
>I couldn't find you, son. I looked into every orphanage, every adoption agency and every other fucking place I could think of. I couldn't find you. But maybe, if you read this, you can find me. I think I've left enough clues. I'm tired of being your anonymous father.

Did I miss something? Is it like a metaphorical son or something else?

>>20257
"came here for a fap, found an interesting story"
haven't yet read the final part, but first wanted to thank you for this nice story, and to comment a bit about Creative Commons. To the extend of my knowledge, publishing your work in CC should not prevent you to propose a more complete version for sale. My guess would be that an editor probably don't care that much about the CC bit, and more about the fact that it's already readable for free on the internets. Except that we can see this fact doesn't prevent web comic from going paper, and selling well. So, all in all, you might have your chances.
(obviously, IANAL)

No, Nicole managed to conceive before she died. I assume Thomas Little knew about her being pregnant, seeing as how he managed to watch them without being noticed quite often. Anon was supposedly the father, though I could be wrong. Could have been Thomas himself, but that would make it anon's brother. The way I read it, anon impregnated her when he lost his virginity (thus that whole huge rant about the purpose of sex being impregnation at a point) and then she disappeared, living just long enough to give birth. I'm guessing Thomas Little watched over his grandson until he was imprisoned. Somehow he wound up with a picture of him, too.

This is one of the best story i have read in a while. I didn't expect this to be as good as it is when i started reading it. i would definitely buy this if it was in book form.

>>20270
>The proof is right here in my fucking hands in this photo. My eyes, your mother's hair.

Oh. I missed that part. Thanks.

Well, ya finished it.

Author here: I don't want to spoil the mystery, I just wanted to mention that I did actually add a line to one of the last lines: But you exist. The proof is right here in my fucking hands in this photo. Nikki's third miracle. I thought again about how she looked when I came inside her, thinking about you. My eyes, your mother's hair.

There IS a series of events in my head that exist for the ending to make sense, but it's one of those reader mystery things, so enjoy it :)

>>20269

So I took a couple of days to think about your post. I had to examine my real feelings about CC and saleability and stuff.

Basically, I realised that my fear of reducing the saleability of the work by this becoming widely distributed is the pinnacle of stupid and irrational. The truth is, if I want a publisher to take note of the manuscript, then what I WANT is for this story to be put up all over the internet. Free advertising.

That being said, I realised at the same time that 90-100% of the reason I actually do NOT want this distributed, and the reason I'm keeping the distribution rights, is because I love this story. You guys think YOU had feels, when Nikki told me about what she went through (she told me the climax of the story after I wrote chapter 2) I cried myself to fucking sleep thinking about it. I couldn't get the images out of my head of her as a little girl being chained up and urinated on and her just crying in a dark room alone. So I wrote it, I put my whole life on hold and poured it out as hard as I could. AS you can see, I even wrote a book about it.

I really love this story. I want everyone to read it. I want every single person to sit down with this text and absorb the story it contains. But what I REALLY want most of all is for them to read the ULTIMATE form of the story. THAT is why I don't want this distributed. I look at parts of this draft and I get annoyed at my own lack of ability. It needs editing, it needs consistent voice, it needs to be gone through carefully and rewritten and moulded line by line until it's perfect. Because when people read Nikki's story, I want them to experience a complete and professionally presented manuscript that is compelling, emotional and real. I even want art with it, for covers, for scenes where words aren't enough. I don't want them to read a rambling, stream of consciousness draft that isn't even formatted properly.

When the story is finished, I'll throw it at the internet myself. Every fucking site I can manage. Hell I'll make a site FOR it and put it there as well. Until then, I want this draft to just stay here on 7chan, because the story's not being told properly yet. It's not yet presented the way I want to present it, so I don't want to present it to anyone else until it's ready.

I'll put up a pdf of the first draft that you guys can print and save on the weekend. :)

Great story op!

This had so many twists and turns, it was great.

>>20281
Just curious, How much of this story is true?

Aight, this will be my last post in this thread. Here's a pdf version of everything in this thread (so, the first draft), formatted a little better and ready for printing.

http://www.mediafire.com/view/h5cv4unrzxbj0wc/nanowrimo.txt.pdf

>>20285

The characters are composits (Dee is like... 6 people?) and the situations are fantasy, most conversations are more or less real or only conjiggered to fit the story.

Coincidentally, as per the name of the text, I realised I'd completed nanowrimo for the first year ever without meaning to. :P

Oh well, see you nigs in a few months after the editing's done

>>20325
The MediaFire link has your name in it. "nanowrimo.txt.pdf shared by (Not Anonymous).", unless that is a made up name you used.

>>20330

made up

Bump to save great story

>>20097

You know what, OP? Fuck you. I came here for a fap. Not a quick fap. I'd watch a porno if I wanted that. No, for an elit fap. With enough nosex and backstory so it gets a bit personal. So you get to know the characters behind the fucking. It's monday night and I have to get up in the morning,so no going out for the actual personal sex thing. But I'm sitting here, reading part 3, with my pants down and a flaccid cock in my hands. Reading the philosophy behind rape, about whores and pimps and shit. If I wanted serious literature I' read something that's better written and were the protagonist isn't called Anon Ymous. Still I pour myself a glass of bourbon and read on. Damn you.

tl;dr. Fuck you. Great story. Not high literature but easily the best story here. Not what I came for, but still made my night.

This is masterful. Absolutely masterful.

OP, I have lurked for years across the chans. That is not hyperbole. Your story gets my comment-virginity, appropriately. This story is more than what it appears to be, and if this is the rough version, I could see the final being a story that shakes the world.

I came here to cum. To fap. When the moment arrived? When the consummation happened? I couldn't. I couldn't do it. Because my goal had changed. I had to keep reading this damned, wonderful story.

If you visit this thread again, OP: thank you.

My eyes are using up all my bodily fluids. I can't fap to this.

I think I need a hug after reading this.

I'm not caught up yet, but in the few hours i've been sitting here reading this, the boy has turned into a fucking boss, and it didn't even seem forced. Good on ya op.

After all of the good parts of this story i have to stand up and pace a bit to calm down before i can carry on. Like another anon said, God-tier. Twilight for men even.

>>20281
Op, thank you. Seriously.

Well fuck. This nearly made me cry. I only hope to find a woman that loves me so much.

Fucking hell. I came for faps, four hours later and I cried like a bitch.

Fuck you, man. Now I can't fap.

oh, no no no. don't scroll off!

I've never actually read this, which makes me sad up to this point. It was a beautiful, tortured story. It had a lot of nice ups and downs (kind of like Book of Mike). I really liked it, even though its been years since it was posted. Thank you.

Not a fapfic but what a great story

Holy Shit, anon. I idly started reading this right before bed and stayed up half the night reading it. Awesome, if depressing, work.

holy fuck, what a read

personally didn't like the ending, but a good story nonetheless.

I wonder did the author ever realise his vision with this one?

Fucking good story

Fantasy and wicked imaginations.